


Exformation

by shineebigbang



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Horror, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Reading, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Suspense, Violent Thoughts, anxiety/depression, murder ideation, slight dub con elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 13:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11945715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineebigbang/pseuds/shineebigbang





	1. Chapter 1

At age seventeen, Taemin had come to the somber realization that he was completely, utterly, and irrevocably fucked.

 

For the most part, the blame lay squarely upon his shoulders; he had been well aware of the physics test that wouldn’t disappear from his class’s syllabus no matter how much he ignored it. However, waking the morning of with an enormous pimple looming on his forehead like a third eye and dark circles under his eyes had sealed the deal. 

 

He dragged his tired body from his warm bed with effort, knees popping as he stood and boxers sticky from his wet dream. He peeled the offensive fabric away from his hips with a grimace, wincing as it clung to his skin stubbornly, tearing pubic hair away with it. Stumbling to his tiny en suite bathroom, he turned the shower on and drifted to the mirror to inspect his morning face, groaning at the large blemish in the middle of his face. 

 

Choosing to ignore it momentarily, he stepped under the warm spray and sighed in content as the water soothed his sleepy muscles, luring him into wakefulness. He had all but forgotten his test by the time the water had turned cold but when he had managed to shuffle into his wrinkled clothes, his eyes caught sight of his physics book, untouched on his desk from the night before and groaned. 

 

He thumbed the surface of his cracked smartphone almost instinctively, bleary eyes seeking Kibum’s telephone number under his emergency contacts. 

 

“...Bum…” Taemin slurred sleepily. “Can I look over your study guide before the test today?”

 

“What? Not even a hello?” Kibum complained on the other end, the sound of a hairdryer fading as the boy turned it off. 

 

“‘Llo” Taemin mumbled, picking at the stray lint that clung to his t-shirt. 

 

Kibum’s sigh was heavy and annoyed. “Yeah, I guess, but I’m serious, Taemin, this is the last time. You’ve got to start doing your own work.” 

 

“I know, I know. I swear this is it.” Taemin begged, panicked at the thought of going into his physics test without Kibum’s much needed assistance. 

 

Kibum grumbled but was otherwise quiet. 

 

“And hyung?” Taemin chanced. 

 

“What is it, Taemin?” 

 

“Do you happen to have any concealer? I’ve got the eye of Sauron in the middle of my forehead.” 

 

Taemin heard the rustling of bottles in a drawer. “Yeah, I’ll hook you up at school. Just wear a hat or something until I get there.”

 

“You’re not picking me up?” Taemin gasped, eyes skating to the clock. There was no way he was going to make the bus.    
  


“Taemin,” Kibum called sharply. Annoyance was thick in his voice. “I told you yesterday that my car is in the shop. I’m catching a ride with Jinki.” 

 

Taemin’s shoulders hunched and his voice was small. “Could you come and get me, too?”

 

A sigh. “Fine. You have ten minutes.”

 

Taemin was so consumed with his victory that he nearly didn’t notice the sound of the call ending. 

 

~

 

Taemin stumbled down the front steps of his house, nearly tripping over his untied shoelaces and open backpack, but managed to get to the minivan that was parked in his driveway. He tried the door, but upon discovering that it was locked, rapped firm knuckles on the driver’s window.    
  


The window slowly rolled down, revealing Jinki’s tired face. Senior year looked better on some people than others. “What is life’s greatest illusion?”

 

“Jinki-hyung, c’mon,” Taemin whined. “I haven’t played Skyrim in months.”

 

It was silent for a beat or two as Jinki refused to unlock the door before Taemin answered, but Kibum leaned over and slapped the unlock button. “Get in the car you numbskull! We’re going to be late!”

 

Taemin grinned triumphantly and slid into the backseat, ignoring Jinki’s grumbling from the front. Before he could so much as buckle his seatbelt, however, Kibum was pinching his chin between icy fingers and turning his face towards him. He felt the cool concealer on his forehead before he saw the bottle, but in the second that it took for him to blink, Kibum was already pulling away, turning his head back and forth and tutting. 

 

“Yeah, this is going to be noticeable, but it's not as bad as before.” He finally, nodded, turning back around in his seat. 

 

Taemin couldn’t even get a thank you out before Kibum was shoving a piece of paper back at him. His study guide. Taemin held it reverently to his chest and turned thankful eyes in Kibum’s direction, but the boy was already staring listlessly out the passenger side window. 

 

~

 

Taemin did not ace his physics test, but he did well enough, thanks to Kibum. His steps were lighter as he practically skipped to the cafeteria, stomach growling loudly though he knew that the school food left much to be desired. 

 

He hurried through the line, hesitantly plucking a sandwich and a green apple from the line before making his way to the circular table where his small friend group was already perched. He nudged Minho with his elbow and, with some effort, was squeezed between the tall junior and Jinki. 

 

He greeted Kibum and Jonghyun before surveying the spread before him. Jinki had a tupperware container full of a Korean stew that Taemin recognized from the occasional traditional kick that his mother went on. He stuck his tongue out distastefully before turning to Jonghyun and Minho who both had unappetizing school grade sandwiches. Finally, his gaze rested on Kibum’s grilled chicken breast and pasta salad. 

 

“Are you going to eat that?” Taemin asked, pointing hesitantly at Kibum’s food. 

 

Kibum rose a brow. “Obviously?” 

 

“Do you want to trade?” He knew that he had a snowball’s chance in hell, but he tried, anyway. 

 

Kibum turned irritated eyes to Taemin’s sad sandwich. “Why would I ever want to do that?”

 

“Because you’re my best friend?” Taemin turned his pouting eyes hopefully towards Kibum, trying to catch his gaze. 

 

Unbelievably, Kibum sighed and pushed his food towards Taemin. “Just eat it. I’m not hungry, anyway.” 

 

Taemin hollered in victory. Two lunches was always better than one. He was prepared to grovel at Kibum’s feet when Jinki interrupted his train of thought. 

 

“So I think that Dumbledore is actually Death from  _ The Tale of the Three Brothers _ .” 

 

Taemin scooped up a bite of Kibum’s chicken, shoved it in his mouth, and chewed loudly. “Hyung, I love you. I truly do. But I am prepared to fight you.”

 

“What? It’s totally true. After all, all of the Deathly Hallows are presented to the narrative by Dumbledore. And-And! When Harry ‘dies’ Dumbledore is the one to greet him, just like in the story. Even JKR said that the theory fits” 

 

“No, Jinki,” Taemin held up a single hand. “Just, no. That would mean that Harry and Voldemort are actually the Peverell brothers, but there are historical records that they died. Plus, Snape hardly fits the second brother, anyway.” 

 

“Okay, just listen.” Jinki insisted. 

 

If Taemin had been paying attention, he would have noticed the forlorn expression on Kibum’s face.

 

~

 

“Taemin, what the hell!” Kibum hissed, pointing at the cellphone that Taemin hide between his hoodie pocket and the edge of his desk. The two of them were supposed to be working on their lab assignment but as soon as the teacher had announced the activity, Taemin had whipped out his phone and started typing away. 

 

Taemin turned pleading eyes up to Kibum. “I know, I know. Someone posted on the Pokemon Go reddit that a Blastoise is around here. I’m hoping if I have the app open long enough, it’ll show up.”

 

“Okay first of all, that’s not how the game works.” Kibum turned his eyes quickly to their teacher to see if she was watching them, which she wasn’t. “Second of all, if Mrs. Jung catches you on your phone you’re going to get a detention.” 

 

“Just give me ten minutes, I swear I’ll put it up after that.”

 

“Taemin, we have to work on this--Ah shit, she’s coming over here, now.”

 

Taemin swallowed thickly and subtly slid his phone into his pocket and placed his head down on his folded arms. “Cover for me!” He urged. 

 

“Is everyone okay over here?” Mrs. Jung inquired, brow raised with suspicion. 

 

“Yeah! Great! Everything’s fine!” Kibum insisted. 

 

She pointed to where Taemin was sitting with his head in his arms. “Is he alright?”

 

Kibum placed a hand over his heart. “Ah, Taemin gets dizzy sometimes.” He leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially. “He has low blood sugar.”

 

She nodded sympathetically and patted Taemin on the shoulder. “Just do what you can for now…”

 

As soon as she was gone, Kibum dug his elbow into Taemin’s side, relishing at the pained wince that it earned him. “I’m never doing that again.”

 

Taemin grinned and sat up, turning his cellphone so that Kibum could see his new Blastoise’s stats. “Never fear, your effort served a greater purpose. I think I’m going to name him Fluffy.”

 

~

 

The wind bit at the tips of his fingers, so Taemin shoved his clenched fists into the pockets on his coat. He was waiting just outside the front entrance of his school for Jinki to roll up in his mother’s minivan. He watched quietly as students filed one after the other from the brick building, eyes disinterested. 

 

Eventually, when the steady stream of students had trickled out, Taemin spied the minivan rolling to a stop before him. Jinki rolled down the window, tiny sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose though it was not nearly bright enough to warrant their use. 

 

“What...is your name?” His voice was grave. 

 

Taemin’s brow furrowed and he hopped a bit in place to generate some warmth. “Lee Taemin.” 

 

“What...is your quest?” 

 

Taemin sighed. “I just want to get the fuck home.”

 

“What...is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?”

 

Taemin grinned wildly. “African or European?” 

 

Jinki answered his smile with one of his own and as soon as Taemin heard the door unlock, he quickly reached for it before Jinki could request another ridiculous puzzle from him. 

 

“You know, hyung,” Taemin started, buckling his seatbelt. “Sometimes I think you’re more of a nerd than I am.”

 

“Not possible. You spent the entire summer trying to learn Dothraki.”

 

“ _ Me nem nesa _ .”

 

Jinki shifted the van into drive though his foot remained firm on the brakes. “Are we waiting for Kibum?” 

 

“Nah, he probably took the bus home.” 

 

Jinki rose a brow. “Kibum hates taking the bus…”

 

Taemin shrugged. “Look, I’ve got to get home for my WOW raid in like ten minutes. Don’t be a dick.” 

 

Jinki nodded solemnly. “Fair point. But if he didn’t take the bus and we’re leaving him, this wasn’t my idea.” 

 

Taemin rubbed a grateful thumb over his rosary that Jinki was one of the most gullible people he had ever met. In truth, he wasn’t exactly sure if Kibum was still inside the school or not, but he figured that if Kibum had needed a ride home, he would have appeared around the same time Taemin had. Besides, he wasn’t kidding about needing to get home before his raid started. There was no telling what would happen to him if he showed up late to a raid one more time. 

 

~

 

Needless to say, Taemin was late anyways. Before exiting the minivan, Jinki had casually mentioned some off the wall fan theory that he had devised about the Dothraki in Game of Thrones and Taemin had a moral obligation to stay in the car and defend the canon. It was only after a ten minute debate that he could tear himself away with the sinister promise that ‘this discussion is not over’ and rush to the house. 

 

However, as soon as he cleared the front door, his bladder made itself very much known and he was forced to rush to the bathroom, grab an energy drink from the fridge, text his brother, and eat a lunch sized bag of Cheetos before finally settling in front of his desktop computer. 

 

“ _ Taemin, where the fuck were you? _ ” Jongin hissed as soon as Taemin logged in to Skype. “ _ We were supposed to start thirty minutes ago! We’re never going to finish this, now! _ ”

 

Taemin grinned and threw up a peace sign. “Sorry, bro, I had to rally the troops if you know what I mean.” He waggled his brow suggestively. 

 

“ _ No. Literally I have no clue what the fuck that means. _ ”

 

Taemin stared. “I had to piss, man. Now, let’s get this show on the road!” 

 

Before he could click into WOW, however, his phone vibrated in his hoodie pocket, alerting him to a text. His attention was forced back to the screen, however, when Jongin insisted that the rest of their party was waiting for them to enter to room. Whoever was texting him could very well wait. 

 

Hours later, after a rather successful raid and Taemin had successfully showered in compliments that his speedy healing had warranted him from his teammates, Taemin remembered the text that he had received before the game had started. He dug around in his hoodie pocket to retrieve his phone, but remembering that he hadn’t checked his Twitter since he returned home, his attention was diverted successfully. 

 

Half an hour later, he finally remembered that he was supposed to be checking his texts and opened his messaging app. It was from Kibum. He paused before reading to change Kibum’s nickname, giggling the whole time. 

 

Prof Oak’s Boy Toy:  _ where r u guys????? _

Prof Oak’s Boy Toy:  _ seriously wtf _

Prof Oak’s Boy Toy:  _ did u leave me at school???? _

Prof Oak’s Boy Toy:  _ taemin this isnt funny _

 

He swallowed thickly, nervous. Hesitantly, his fingers tapped out a response.

 

Innocent Bystander:  _ im sgo sory i thoiugh u were staying after skool _

 

Kibum saw his message but said nothing. Sudden anxiety thick in his throat, Taemin kept his eyes glued on the cracked screen of his smartphone, waiting for Kibum to respond. He began typing a message, but ultimately stopped without replying. 

 

_ Innocent Bystander’s name has been changed to The Biggest Fuckwad _

 

Taemin gulped. 

 

The Biggest Fuckwad:  _ bum im rly srry  _

The Biggest Fuckwad:  _ kibum cmon _

The Biggest Fuckwad:  _ bummmmmmmm _

 

_ Prof Oak’s Boy Toy has left the chat _

 

Taemin groaned and ran a shaking hand through his hair. Sighing and determining that it couldn’t be left alone, he dialed out Kibum’s number. After five rings, the boy finally answered. 

 

“ _ What. _ ” His voice was a furious hiss of noise. 

 

“I’m so sorry Kibum, I really thought you would just take the bus or something.” 

 

“ _ Jinki was my ride to school you asshole. _ ”

 

Taemin felt red hot shame warming the back of his neck. “I’m sorry…” His voice was barely audible. 

 

There was the loud static of a long sigh. “ _ Look, just….Just try to think of someone other than yourself for once. That’s all I’m saying. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  _

 

And before Taemin could respond, he was met with an abrupt dial tone. His hand fell limp to his lap, phone still clutched in a sweaty palm. He sighed, hoping that that would release some of the heavy weight on his chest, but that only made him feel worse. His eyes stared blankly ahead at his computer screen. Maybe he could call Kibum back and --

 

Wait a minute. 

 

No. 

 

No way. 

 

He blinked, blinked again. Rubbed his eyes. Spun around in his chair until he was facing the screen, once again. Before he could really process what had appeared on his screen, he was already dialing Minho’s number. 

 

Minho picked up on the second ring and before he could even utter a ‘hello,’ Taemin was already excitedly babbling about the message he had received. 

 

“Hyunghyunghyung, you’re not going to believe this. The new Widowmaker skin on Overwatch is her in a chicken suit.” 

 

\---

 

Waking the next day was painful for Taemin, a sudden gasp of air and he was blinking eyes open to too bright lights and his old fan buzzing so loudly in his ear that he was surprised it hadn’t spun right off in the middle of the night. He groaned, mouth sticky, and he was almost certain that there was a line of dried drool on his cheek. 

 

He reached a hand down to scratch at his stomach and, on a whim, he let his hand drift further down past the waistband of his boxers. He sighed in content and was just about to really settle in to commit to the act when his phone began buzzing just beside him. 

 

With an irritated huff, Taemin reached over to his bedside table to answer the call, phone cool against his flushed cheek. “‘Llo?” He grumbled. 

 

“You’ve got maybe ten minutes to get your ass out of bed. Jinki’s driving like a bat out of hell because he has a presentation during first period.”

 

“Okay, got it.” Taemin groused, ending the call and rolling over until he was on his stomach, groaned in pain, and then turned once more until he tumbled over the side of the bed, hoping that the blunt impact would give him a bad enough concussion that he didn’t have to endure his early morning literature class. He was not so lucky, as all his fall accomplished was putting him in an even more sour mood. 

 

He rushed through his morning routine, not bothering with a shower and blindly plucking clothes off of the floor to toss on. His socks mismatched, and he was sure that his shirt had a ketchup stain that he had failed to locate, but he couldn’t really be bothered to dress up for a public high school. By the time he was finished brushing his teeth, his phone was buzzing again alerting him that Jinki’s van was parked in the driveway.

 

Taemin snatched up his old backpack and rushed down the stairs, not bothering to check if his mother had left for work, already. Once he had managed to successfully lock the house up, he sprinted to the car, diving in just as the door had finished sliding open all the way. 

 

“Drive, drive, drive!” Taemin laughed, turning himself upright and buckling his seatbelt. 

 

Minho turned around in the passenger seat and raised a brow. “Okay, James Bond. We’re in a hurry, but calm your tits.” 

 

“Listen,” Taemin replied, pulling open his phone in the hopes that the spots along the way with a slower speed limit would be enable the car to go slowly enough for him to catch some pokemon. “If Jinki had the door open without me needing to solve a riddle of some sort, then we need to get the fuck out of dodge.”

 

With that being said, Taemin turned his attention to the rearview mirror, making note of the dark circles under Jinki’s eyes. “How’s it hanging, hyung?” 

 

Jinki blinked once. “To the left.” His voice was perfectly monotone and Taemin was sure that he had spent most of the previous evening working on his presentation after his shift at the only restaurant in town. 

 

Taemin made note of the empty backseat and turned back to Minho. “Hey, where’s Bummie?” 

 

Minho finished typing out a text before answering. “We’re going to swing by his house, right now. We should be good with time if he is ready as soon as we pull up.” 

 

“Hey! Why did  _ I _ get the ten minute wake up call?” Taemin whined in response. Because, really. 

 

Minho scoffed. “Because you’re gross? More time won’t fix that.” 

 

Taemin figured that he was thoroughly justified in kicking the back of Minho’s seat. 

 

“Hey, hey!” Jinki called, never taking his eyes off the road. “Easy on the hardware.” 

 

Taemin huffed and threw himself back against his own seat, arms crossed over his chest. “Listen, my dude, you drive a used minivan.” 

 

Jinki rose his brow in the rearview mirror. “And you drive air.” 

 

Taemin had just opened his mouth to respond when they pulled into Kibum’s driveway. Before the car could even shift into park, Kibum was storming out of the house, not a hair out of place or a single loose thread on his jacket. However, while he looked just as impeccable as always, the left side of his face was swollen with an enormous bruise. 

 

Taemin gasped and turned to Minho. “Mings, what the fuck is wrong with Kibum’s face? Is it his dad, again?”

 

Minho didn’t answer, eyes intensely following Kibum’s every move. Their friend rushed to the minivan, where the door was slowly sliding open, with his eyes focused firmly on the ground. Just as he was about to rush into the van, however, a voice came from his front door. 

 

“Bum! Hey, get your sorry ass back here!” The voice wasn’t very steady, but it rang with dark promise. Taemin winced and averted his eyes as Kibum slide across him to get to the empty seat. 

 

It was quiet in the car for a beat or two, no one really knowing what to say or do, before Kibum was unable to take it any longer. “Just drive!” 

 

Jinki swallowed thickly and nodded, turning the key in the ignition and backing out of the driveway. Kibum huffed and started rustling through his backpack. Taemin turned his attention back to his phone, surmising that the issue was over, but Minho spoke up. 

 

“Bum…”

 

“Listen, just don’t.” Kibum snapped. And then quietly. “Don’t...Okay?” 

 

Minho sighed, but stretched his arm back far enough so that his wide palm covered Kibum’s knee. “Just know that we’re here for you, okay? You don’t have to be alone in this.”

 

Kibum scoffed. “Yeah, yeah. Knock it off, Bigfoot.” He turned back to rustling in his bag, but Taemin could see the tiny smile that nestled in the corner of his lips. 

 

Finally, he procured a tube of concealer (Taemin had never really wondered why Kibum had the stuff, but he supposed that now he knew) and a small pocket mirror. A few moments later, and more than a few liberal swipes of the makeup, and Kibum was back to his regular self and Taemin allowed himself to carefully file away what had just happened for later, and possibly never, analysis. 

 

“So….” Taemin hummed. “Bummie. Darling. Dearest. The sun in my skies. The light of my life.” 

 

Kibum let his head rest against the back of his seat. “What the fuck do you want, Taemin.” 

 

“Do you think…? Maybe…? Possibly…? That you could summarize the reading for first period to me?” He smiled winningly, both hands lifted to punctuate his questions with bullets from his finger guns. 

 

“Taemin, don’t you think you can give it a rest just for today?” Minho’s voice was dripping with disappointment. Jinki didn’t speak, but Taemin could see him nodding in the rearview. 

 

Taemin groaned. “Great. Now I’m going to inevitably get called on and sound like an idiot. Thanks, guys.” 

 

Taemin could see Kibum’s shoulders droop, but he acknowledged it only in passing, most of his attention focused on Minho. He was only acting like an ass to get a rise out of Minho, who was so easy to irritate. The others knew he was really only playing it up for attention. 

 

“Taemin,” Jinki spoke up, voice matter of fact. “You can’t read, anyway, so you would have looked like an idiot in a literature class, no matter what.” 

 

“Touche.” Taemin replied, turning back to his phone. Oh! A Charmander!

 

\--

 

Fortunately for Taemin, the rest of his day passed in a relatively quick and painless manner, classing blending into a meaningless blur in his head as he moved through his day. Once the final bell toll signaling the end of his last class, however, he was shooting out of his desk and rocketing for the front gates of the school in order to wait for the bus, hoping that somehow, his haste would make the bus arrive faster.

 

He sighed, bouncing from foot to foot. This was why he always avoided taking the bus home. There was no way he was going to make it back in time to meet up with Kai and Ravi on Runescape. They had planned to complete a new quest that had dropped earlier in the week, spreadsheet all ready to go with all of the quest’s stats and requirements, but it looked like Taemin was going to be thirty minutes late if he took the bus. 

 

He bounced nervously a few more times, glancing up and down the road to see if that elusive yellow beacon of hope would make an appearance any time this century, but the roads were empty. 

 

“Come on, come on, come on…” He muttered to himself, glancing at his wrist (though he wasn’t sure why because he had never worn a watch a day in his life), before returning his thumb to the strap of his backpack. 

 

He sighed, eyes narrowed, before groaning. “Ah, fuck it.” 

 

And then, he took off running down the road in the direction of his house. If he ran the whole way, he could make it there in fifteen minutes, tops, and only risk being chewed out half as much as he would have been if he took the bus. He cursed his bad luck, he wasn’t wearing his beat up sneakers because he had wanted to impress Jonghyun, and his feet slapped against the pavement painfully with each step. 

 

He had little stamina to speak of, but he prayed to God (he even glanced at his rosary out of the corner of his eye as a sign of his piety) that he would somehow be granted the godlike strength that running for fifteen minutes straight would require. His arms were pumping and his backpack was swinging all over the place, heavy books causing his weight to be pulled from one direction in his backpack, held to his shoulders on worn straps, to the other as he ran. 

 

He saw it too late. A branch in the middle of the sidewalk. Who had even left that there? It hadn’t stormed in a few days so he couldn’t imagine that the weather had knocked it down. Either way, it was there and it was going to cause him to bust his ass, and there was nothing that he could do to stop it because he was a fucking idiot who forgot to ask for a ride home. 

 

He sighed, accepting his fate, and prepared his body to go as limp as possible as his feet fumbled over the branch. His knees hit the pavement first, but before he could get his arms out to catch the rest of the fall on his palms (his precious, gaming hands), they tangled in the sleeve of his jacket and the straps of his backpack, which had swung entirely to his left side in his haste. 

 

Right before his hand smacked against the concrete, his final thoughts were dedicated to cursing his freshman self, who had thought that it was cool to have the straps of his backpack as long as possible. 

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

He groaned and rolled over, cradling his head in both hands ignoring the way that the branch dug into his back. His head was pounding and his vision was spotty at best, but damn it, he was going to get home in time for his quest. After all, if a decade of watching Naruto had taught him nothing else, it had taught him that a ninja is one who endures. Taemin was not a ninja. And he had very little endurance. But Jongin was absolutely terrifying when he was pissed so Taemin forced himself to his feet and slowly limped home, clutching his head the entire way. 

 

He was forty five minutes late. 


	2. Chapter 2

Taemin woke the next day with a massive headache, and though he had never had any alcohol, he wondered if this was comparable to a raging hangover. By the grace of God, he had managed to rise from his deathlike slumber before his alarm so he dragged his mangled corpse from his bed and pushed it down the stairs, eyes hardly even open. 

 

His mother had left for work already, if the half-empty coffee pot was any indicator, and having heard somewhere that greasy food cures a hangover, Taemin shuffled over to the fridge to pull out the remaining three pieces of bacon. He didn’t have a hangover, but he  _ did _ want bacon, so he would call it cure if that was how he needed to justify it. 

 

Once the skillet was warm enough, he threw the bacon down (literally threw because make no mistake, he may be seventeen, but Taemin was a  _ child _ ) and sighed in satisfaction at the immediate sizzling sound. 

 

With that done, Taemin turned to the spice cabinet to start rifling around for the pain medication that he knew his mother kept there for her migraines. He wasn’t sure if what he had was a migraine, but it hurt like hell, so he figured that it was close enough. 

 

He downed two of the white pills dry, ignoring the tiny voice of his mother in the back of his head warning him that if he took pills without a drink he’d end up tearing up his esophagus and stomach, and shuffled back over to his bacon. It was slightly burnt, now, but Taemin didn’t really care. He turned the stove off and plucked it straight from the pan, not bothering to let any grease soak off, and popped an entire piece into his mouth. 

 

“Ah, shit…” He muffled around his mouthful, moving the bacon around in his mouth so as to at least burn the skin evenly. 

 

Having eaten one piece, he decided that he didn’t want the rest, so he placed the two remaining pieces in a sandwich bag and rifled through the drawer next to the stove for a sharpie. He wrote his name clearly across the bag and though he knew that it was only just him and his mother, he still wanted her to know that he  _ did _ intend to eat the bacon, he just didn’t know  _ when _ , and while his mother had, in fact, purchased the bacon, since he was the one to find it and cook it, it was his. Squatter’s rights. 

 

Now that his headache was slightly more manageable, Taemin pulled his phone from the waistband of his boxers and typed out a quick text to Jinki to see if the senior would be able to swing by to get him this morning. He groaned at his misfortune because in a few moments Jinki was informing him that Jonghyun was picking everyone up because Jinki’s mom needed the van to drive her charge, Mrs. Edna, to the grocery store. 

 

It wasn’t that Taemin didn’t like Jonghyun. In fact, Taemin liked Jonghyun  _ too _ much.  _ That _ was the problem. That, and Jonghyun drove a ridiculous two door car with barely enough room to breathe, and inevitably, as the thinnest and twerpiest, Taemin would be forced to sit in the middle of the backseat and suffer Minho’s spider legs digging into his sore kneecaps. 

 

He grumbled under his breath and went through the motions of his morning routine, headache still there, but nowhere near as painful as it had been when he had first awaken. Once he was dressed, in his best clean shirt that didn’t have buttons and a baseball cap to cover his atrocious bedhead, he shouldered his backpack and headed downstairs to wait for Jonghyun to pull into the driveway. 

 

Before he could really settle the rapid beating in his heart, Jonghyun’s car had arrived and Taemin’s heart took that as a sign to beat even  _ faster _ . He twiddled his thumbs for all of two seconds before gathering his strength and heading outside. 

 

As soon as he stepped outside, he could hear a faint buzzing noise. It was odd, but he assumed there was some sort of construction near his house and shrugged it off. Once his front door was locked, he turned to start heading to the car, knocking on the passenger window once he was close enough so that way he could get into the car. 

 

Jinki rolled down the window, wearing those ridiculous sunglasses, and looked him over the rim. 

 

“What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?” 

 

Taemin groaned, not really in any position to remember what the answer to Gollum’s first riddle was. He shuffled from foot to foot and ignored the soft smile Jonghyun offered from the driver’s seat. God he was gorgeous. What would Taemin have to do to get a date with--

 

_ “A mountain _ .”

 

“What was that?” Taemin turned his attention to Jinki, ignoring the way the sun heated the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

 

Jinki only rose his brow. 

 

Taemin sighed, not really sure why Jinki had given him the answer, but not really wanting to keep standing outside in the heat. “A mountain.” 

 

Jinki grinned winningly and opened the passenger side door in order to get out and fold the seat down to let Taemin slide uncomfortably across Minho’s lap and plop down in the middle where he knew he would be banished. 

 

“Could your legs be any more in the way?” Taemin grumbled to Minho, spreading his legs as much as he dared so that his dick wouldn’t be crushed. 

 

_ “Maybe if you spent more time doing something other than rotting in a computer chair, your legs could be in the way, too _ ” Minho wasn’t looking at him, but Taemin could hear him just as clearly. He huffed, not finding the statement particularly fair because Minho spent more time on Overwatch than Taemin thought possible, so he pushed his knee into Minho’s thigh in retaliation. 

 

“Hey, watch it, you twerp!” Minho yelled, pulling his leg back and rubbing at the sore spot while Taemin grinned in victory, finger guns firmly in place. 

 

_ “He’s so cute…” _

 

Taemin rolled his eyes at Jonghyun, assuming he was talking about the boy running on the sidewalk in tight pants and a muscle tee. He turned his attention to his own body, noting his baggy shirt (not stained for once) and his worn skinny jeans. He didn’t have a runner’s body. He was so thin that he barely  _ had _ a body, his only active muscles confined to his hands. 

 

Sighing, he pulled his phone out and uselessly pulled up Hearthstone. The buzzing noise he had heard earlier had somehow gotten louder and he wondered if they were moving closer to the construction. 

 

Before he knew it, Kibum was sliding into the car next to him, face tired but otherwise unmarked with new bruises. Taemin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and took the hint when he didn’t offer anything to anyone in the car, pulling a study guide for third period out of his backpack, glancing over it rather that speaking. Taemin turned back to his phone silently, in a rare show of tact. 

 

_ “Kinder means children, suchen means search, woche means week…” _

 

Taemin grinned to himself. It seemed that Kibum had wised up and had decided to just start sharing his study guides with Taemin without prompting. It wasn’t entirely his fault, he had really only decided to take German over Spanish because there wasn’t enough room in the Spanish class for another student. 

 

Kibum’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “What, you’re not going to ask for the answers today?” There was just the slightest hint of irritation in his voice. 

 

Taemin rose his brow. “No…?”

 

Kibum stared at him for a moment before grunting in acknowledgment and returning to his study guide. 

 

_ Wetter means weather… boot means boat…” _

 

Taemin grinned cheekily and thought that Kibum really was a good friend.

\---

 

By the time lunch rolled around, Taemin had had enough. Not only were people talking to him and then pretending to be surprised when he answered, but he was almost ninety percent sure Kibum had tried to give him the answers to the German quiz today which completely went against Kibum’s AP student morals. 

 

He grumbled and slammed down into a seat at his usual lunch table, pushing his school grade pizza away from him in irritation. Crossing his arms across his chest in anger, he pointedly ignored Minho’s raised brow, turning his attention to Jinki, who was the safer and less intrusive option. 

 

_ “I wonder what’s eating him…” _

 

Taemin turned his glare to Minho who was looking away. “Could you look at me when you’re talking about me?” He was completely over being ignored. 

 

Minho’s eyes widened. “I literally didn’t say anything…?” 

 

_ “Maybe all of those video games are finally getting to him.” _

 

Taemin growled and stood, palms slapping against the table. “Listen here, I play a perfectly healthy amount of video games!” 

 

It was Minho’s turn to glare. “Literally, what is your issue? I haven’t even said anything about any games!” 

 

_ “Yeah, definitely the video games…” _

 

Taemin blinked. “What was that…?” 

 

“I asked what your issue is?” Minho asked sarcastically. 

 

_ “His mom really needs to start cutting the internet off after midnight. He’s like a Gremlin.”  _

 

Taemin ignored the comparision, eyes trained on Minho’s face. He sunk back into this seat weakly. He was certain that he had heard Minho speaking to him, but he hadn’t seen Minho’s lips move. 

 

“Hey, you haven’t picked up a ventriloquist hobby by any chance, have you…?” He asked shakily. 

 

“No…?” He replied, ignoring the intense way Taemin watched him. “Whatever, bro…” He turned back to his sandwich, taking a huge bite, as if to prove that he was done with the conversation. 

 

Before Taemin could say anything else, Kibum was sinking into the seat next to Minho. Suddenly remembering the quiz from earlier, Taemin blurted out a question before he could stop himself. 

 

“Hey, why were you trying to give me the answers to the quiz earlier? Not that I’m complaining…” 

 

Kibum narrowed his eyes at Taemin. “Taemin, I swear to God if you cheated off of my quiz, I’ll kill you.” 

 

“Woah, woah, woah. Chill out, geez.” Taemin reassured. “I didn’t cheat, I promise.” 

 

_ “Not that that means much, anyway. Why is he always like this?”  _

 

Taemin blinked and sunk into himself, shoulders curling. Up until this point, Jinki had been silent, but he took this opportunity to offer his infinite wisdom. “Hey, you’ve been acting weird all day. Are you okay?” 

 

Taemin nodded vaguely. “Yeah...I hit my head yesterday, so I think I might have knocked more than a few screws loose. It’s cool though.” 

 

Jinki nodded. “If you say so.” 

 

The rest of his day proceeded in a similar manner and before he knew it, he was making his way home in a daze. By the time he was walking through the door, calling out a greeting to his mother, and trudging upstairs, he had decided that something needed to be done. 

 

Knowing not else what to do, Taemin whipped out his smartphone and tapped a question into google. 

 

_ Why would I wake up able to read minds yahoo answers _

 

He waited in pins and needles as his slow connection processed his request, cursing the amount of data that he had used on Hearthstone to make it so slow. His results were not encouraging. “6 Signs You’re Exhausted,” “4-step guide to waking up early,” “Can cats read minds.” Was he a cat? Was that what was happening, right now? 

 

Sighing, he turned off the screen. Maybe he  _ was _ exhausted. Maybe he just needed to sleep this day off. He shot a quick text to Jongin letting him know that he was going to skip out on WoW today and then, being too lazy to go downstairs, he texted his mom to tell her he was going to straight to sleep. 

 

And with that, he promptly fell onto his bed, kicked off his jeans, and went to sleep. 

 

\---

 

By the time Taemin’s alarm went off the next day, he had already resigned himself to a life of inhuman power and intelligence thanks to his new abilities. And if he was wrong and everything that had happened to him yesterday was merely a joke, well then, whatever. 

 

He nodded to himself, satisfied, and dragged his sleep dazed corpse from his bed, all the while scratching at his greasy head and wincing at his own morning breath. With a rank sigh, he meandered to the shower, plucking up his toothbrush along the way to conserve time. He had all of his years of gaming to thank for his hand-eye coordination. 

 

A record-breaking five minutes later and he was toweling himself dry, waltzing back to his room in nude. His mother should be at work, by now, and if she wasn’t, well, oh well. 

 

His phone buzzed on his nightstand and he moved to glance at his text messages as he was pulling a pair of boxer shorts up his legs, humming to himself. Kibum had finally gotten his car out of the shop, so life would shortly be returning to its normal order, leaving Taemin with an extra fifteen minutes to get ready before Kibum pulled up in his mom’s old sedan. 

 

Taemin rubbed a thumb over his rosary in thanks to God for delivering him from Jinki’s minivan. He loved Jinki, he really did, but small doses. Small doses. 

 

Now that he had all of the time in the world, Taemin moved downstairs to throw together some oatmeal. Ever since Taemin was a small child, his mother had made him oatmeal in the mornings before school but now that he was in high school, his mother was insistent that he learn how to at least make his own breakfast. He rifled through the cabinets for a packet of apple flavored oatmeal and, because he lived an adventurous life, he picked three more things from the fridge at random. 

 

“Chef, your mystery ingredients for this round include some ugly surprises…” A pause to glance at the counter, “Honey…” another pause, “tomatoes…” pause, “And brown sugar…”

 

Silence. 

 

“Wait a second, only one of those is awful…” 

 

He sighed and reluctantly put the tomatoes back, deciding that his imaginary round of Chopped didn’t have enough critical thinking to be really worth it. Instead, he dumped a liberal amount of honey and brown sugar into his oatmeal and mixed it all up until it was a lightly tanned goop. 

 

Without his mother there to make it for him, it came out watery and not very good at all, but he ate it anyways, because he wasn’t a quitter. 

 

Suddenly, the obscenely loud beeping of Kibum’s horn was blowing through his house, almost causing the spoon in Taemin’s mouth to lodge itself in his throat. “Fuck!” Taemin called, removing the spoon and throwing it and his half full bowl into the sink. The disposal had broken months ago, but both he and his mother kept forgetting to call someone to come look at it. So, he just left his bowl as it was, vowing to return to it after school (though he knew that likely wouldn’t happen). 

 

He scrambled upstairs to grab his backpack and was hurrying out the door before Kibum had a chance to resort to phase two of Operation Extract Taemin, which usually meant he would simply hold the horn down and let it sound until Taemin made an appearance. 

 

By the time Taemin had scrambled to the passenger seat of the car, his heart was beating frantically in his chest and the back of his neck was warmed with sweat. He hoped that he had put on deodorant that morning, but at this point, leaving the car would cost him his life, so he resigned himself to a fate of being known as the Smelly Kid in school, if it came down to it. 

 

He glanced at Kibum, hair perfectly coiffed, avant-garde sunglasses perched on a ski slope nose. Lips curled into a tiny smile. And then, like a whisper, a thought. 

 

_ “I’m so happy…” _

 

Taemin rose his brow at him. “You’re looking chipper this morning.” 

 

Kibum snapped to attention as though he had been lost in his thoughts. Taemin had only heard one thing, and he supposed his abilities were flawed in some way, preventing him from picking up on everything. Either way, the fact that he had heard anything, at all, confirmed that he hadn’t just imagined yesterday, after all. He sighed, gathering the strength that he would need to get through the day. 

 

“Oh, I’m just glad that I have my car back.” Kibum grinned, patting the steering wheel absentmindedly. 

 

“Sure, whatever you say…” Taemin replied. Kibum had always furiously asserted that he despised his car, firstly because it had belonged to his dead mother, but mostly because it was a hideous orange color. But Taemin guessed that Kibum was about where he was when it came to bumming rides off of Jinki. And Kibum was even worse at picking up on pop culture references than Taemin was, so he imagined there was many a time where Jinki had simply stared Kibum down from inside his locked car when Kibum couldn’t answer some ridiculous puzzle. 

 

Taemin reclined his seat as much as he could and twisted the air conditioner to maximum strength. “Are we picking up anyone else on the way?” 

 

Kibum threw the car into reverse and carefully backed out of Taemin’s driveway. “No, it’s just us.” 

 

_ “...Thankfully…” _

 

Taemin grinned. “So, can we go to McDonalds on the way, then? I absolutely  _ need _ an Egg McMuffin.” 

 

_ “I don’t have a reason to say no but if I say yes, he’ll make me pay for his shit.” _

 

“Taemin, I don’t think we have time.” 

 

Taemin grinned in response. “I have my own money, I swear.” 

 

_ “He always says that _ .”

 

A pout. “I don’t  _ always _ say that. Sometimes, I’m an honest mooch, if nothing else.” 

 

Kibum looked at him from over the rim of his sunglasses in confusion. “Ok...ay?”

 

Oh, fuck. Taemin had accidentally answered Kibum’s thoughts. Well, surely there was going to be a learning curve when it came to suddenly becoming a superhero overnight. He just had to be more careful. “C’mon, Kibum. Don’t make me starve.” 

 

Kibum groaned. “Fine. You  _ have _ to pay for yourself, though. No more mooching.”

 

Taemin grinned and nodded, delicately crossing his fingers behind his back and shooting off fingerguns with his free hand. “You got it, champ.” 

 

“Don’t call me champ.” Kibum answered, not looking away from the road.    
  


“You got it, bucko.”

 

“Or that.”

 

Somehow, Egg McMuffins just tasted better when they were free. 

 

\---

 

It wasn’t until the papers were being dispersed in biology that Taemin came to the chilling realization that, oh shit, he had a quiz today that he forgot to study for. With his heart beating rapidly in his chest and his mouth suddenly dry of all moisture, he cursed his decision to just sleep the night before, glancing around the room frantically as though to see if anyone else felt as thoroughly swindled as he did. 

 

He turned to the seat next to him and met Minho’s questioning stare. “Dude, I completely forgot to study for this!” He hissed, careful to keep his voice low enough so that his teacher wouldn’t be able to hear. He had to at least keep whatever reasonable doubt he had at his disposal.

 

Minho raised a single, skeptical brow. “Okay…? I don’t know what to tell you, dude.” 

 

“Ah, fuck…” Taemin mumbled, leg bouncing and fingers tapping the lab table in a panic. He frantically focused all of his brain power on hopelessly trying to recall what the fuck they had even been going over in class, but Taemin could only remember the new high score that he had gotten on the rhythm game on his phone. It had been a damn good score. 

 

When the papers were slapped on the desk before him, he was forcefully snapped out of his recollections. “ _ Shit _ …” He cursed, ignoring the affronted look on his teacher’s face. 

 

He was just about to face the proverbial music when he had a sudden realization. Oh. Fuck. He could read minds, now. Like, he wasn’t exactly  _ eager _ to cheat, but the Lord had blessed him with this gift, and so who was he to defy God? It was practically blasphemy. 

 

He nodded to himself and turned his attention to the buzzing in the back of his head, focusing on the noise until they slowly because separate hums, and then thoughts. 

 

_ “Hmmm...Okay, I’m going with A. The last three were definitely C, so there’s no way there would be another C…” _

 

_ “Wow, four C’s in a row…” _

 

_ “Weird that there are four C’s, but I know this is right…” _

 

Taemin grinned wildly and started bubbling in answers, sending a prayer up to God for literally descending from the heavens in order to guide him down the path of righteousness. Amen. 

 

By the time he had hit lunch period, he had used his mindreading ability to skate by in all of his classes, answer questions correctly when he was called on, and get decent scores on quizzes. He even used his ability to correctly write the answer to a ridiculous question in Calculus. He was living the life. 

 

However, Taemin wasn’t an idiot, and so he wondered when he would have to pay for his ability. There was no way that he would be gifted with such an extraordinary power without having to sacrifice something. After all, Spiderman got to climb all over walls and shit but he also had to deal with copious amounts of spider cum shooting out of his wrists in order to do it. Also, there was the whole uncle thing, but Taemin didn’t have any uncles so he figured he was safe. 

 

It was in the middle of finding himself nearly bored to death listening to Minho run through soccer scores in his head when Taemin suddenly blurted out around the tuna salad sandwich he had pilfered from Kibum: 

 

“Do you think Spiderman feels gross that he has spider cum shooting out of his wrists?”

 

With that, the conversation at their table ground to a halt with only the dull buzz of the other thoughts from the room ringing in his skull. 

 

_ “Literally, what the fuck is wrong with this kid?” _

 

_ “Why is he like this?” _

 

_ “It must be all those video games…” _

 

_ “Why do I even like this idiot?”  _

 

Taemin bit down the affronted response that, no, he does  _ not  _ play too many video games. “Well?”

 

Jinki seemed to be gathering strength to address Taemin’s statement but before he could, Minho jumped in. “You are literally a fucking idiot.” 

 

“Harsh words, my dude.” 

 

Jonghyun piped up. “Dude, that isn’t spider cum.” 

 

Taemin rose his brow. “Okay, if it isn’t cum then what the hell is it?” 

 

“It’s just spider silk? I think?” Jonghyun seemed perplexed. 

 

Taemin huffed. “Well, I headcanon it as spider cum, so there.” 

 

“Taemin,” Jinki sighed. “That’s literally not a headcanon.” 

 

Taemin and Jinki were fiercely locked in a stare-down when Kibum, looking between the two, interrupted the battle. 

 

“Anyways…Taemin are we going to work on that group project at some point or no?” There was a hint of irritation on his features and Taemin could surmise from his thoughts that they were already a week behind his mental deadline. 

 

Taemin sighed. “Yeah, I guess we have to…” He paused, running through his raid and quest schedule. “I’m not raiding today and Jongin is going solo on a quest, so I’m free today if you want to come over?” 

 

_ “Finally…”  _ Kibum’s mind whispered while out loud, he grinned. “Great, we can just ride back together and start working on it, then.”

 

Before Taemin could respond, the shrill wailing of the bell alerted him that it was time for his next class. He stood, gathering all his trash, and nodded at Kibum. “Mmkay, I’ll meet you by the gym after school, then.”

 

“Don’t be late!” Kibum called, oddly giddy, as Taemin wondered away. 

 

\---

 

He was running late, and Kibum was going to kill him. He groaned, shoving all of his books in his bag and tripping over his desk chair. He really hadn’t meant to fall asleep in class, but he really hadn’t slept well the previous day, and now Kibum was going to kill him, for sure. 

 

He ran as fast as he dared, still hurting from his fall a few days prior. Thankfully, however, he had shortened the length of his backpack straps as a result, and his his bag was firmly centered on his back. 

 

He burst through the gym doors and nearly tumbled to a stop, pleads for amnesty falling from his lips before he could even set his eyes on Kibum, head dipping in aborted bows because that’s what his mom had always told him to do when he’d made a mistake. “Bummie, buddy, pal, friend, I’m not even  _ that _ late, so you don’t have to kill me! Not even a little bit!”

 

_ “Such an idiot…” _

 

Taemin winced and glanced up to finally meet Kibum’s eyes, but the other teen was only smiling that tiny smile that told Taemin that he found him amusing and that his life was not in danger. Taemin raised to his full height sheepishly, twiddling his thumbs. “Yeah, I kinda fell asleep in class.” 

 

Kibum just sighed, smile still there, “Just get in the car, dork.” 

 

Taemin grinned and dove into the passenger seat, ignoring Kibum’s warnings to be more gentle with the car. Once they were both in place, seatbelts locked, Kibum started the car and Taemin whipped out his phone to open Pokemon Go. 

 

_ “Oh, yeah…” _

 

“Oh, yeah,” Kibum suddenly announced just as they were pulling onto the main road. “I got you something.”

 

Taemin’s eyes widened and he turned his attention away from his game to look at Kibum. He loved free stuff. He stuck out both hands, curling his fingers in and out in a grabbing motion. “Gimmie, gimmie.” 

 

Kibum chuckled quietly and fished behind his seat for an Amazon box before thrusting it at Taemin. Taemin rose his brow at the box and focused on Kibum’s thoughts to see if it would give away what was inside to no avail. He carefully peeled the Prime tape away from the box and dug through the bubble wrap and tissue paper only to reveal a smaller box. 

 

A smaller box with a pokeball on it. 

 

No. 

 

It couldn’t be. 

 

“You got me Pokemon Go Plus?” His eyes nearly filled with tears. “I’m going to  _ shit, _ I’m so happy.” 

 

Kibum stuck his tongue out in distaste. “Maybe don’t do that? Anyway, I got in on sale and figured maybe if I got you the damn thing you would pay attention in class every once in awhile.” 

 

Taemin pretended to wipe away a tear. “I mean, me paying attention in class is a lost cause, but I appreciate the sentiment.” 

 

He pulled the device out of the box and slipped it on his wrist immediately, connecting it to his phone with Bluetooth. He gingerly turned his screen off and sat back in the car, eyes trained on his wrist to make sure that it would light up when they passed the light pole that was a known PokeStop. 

 

He nearly came when it vibrated. 

 

“Sweet Jesus…” he murmured under his breath, stroking the device. 

 

Kibum scoffed. “Literally, could you be any more disgusting?” But Taemin could tell from his thoughts that he was pleased. 

 

Before he knew it, they were pulling into Taemin’s driveway behind his mom’s car and Taemin found himself unwillingly dragged from the car. He had begged Kibum to drive around for a bit longer so that he could use his new toy more, but the older boy had been adamant that they start the project. 

 

“Mom, I’m home!” Taemin called, moving into the kitchen to grab a snack. 

 

His mother poked her head out of her office just outside the kitchen. “Hey, kid, do you need help making something?” 

 

Taemin grinned and offered two thumbs up. “You got it, mama.” 

 

She entered the kitchen, still dressed in her pantsuit from work, hair pulled into a french twist and heels clicking on the tiled floor. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and scrutinized her son as soon as she rounded the corner. 

 

_ “He needs a haircut…” _

 

Taemin ignored her and started rifling through the fridge in search of some kimchi to go with the ramen noodles he would beg for. His mother exchanged pleasantries with Kibum and started sifting through the cabinets. 

 

“Ok, son, what do you want? If it's anything that needs to be heated up, just let me do it. I saw what you did to the last of the bacon.” 

 

Taemin grinned and tucked his head over her shoulder. “Ramen noodles, please.” 

 

His mother told him. “Nope, try again.” And then quietly in her head  _ “too much sodium.” _

 

“Ah, mom, c’mon. They aren’t  _ that  _ bad. I’ll eat some celery or something later to make up for it” He buried his face into the crook of her neck, snorting loudly right next to her ear. 

 

She sighed and turned to Kibum. “Kibum, are ramen noodles fine for you? I swear we eat better food usually.” Taemin turned to stare at him imploringly.

 

Kibum shrugged, something odd glittering in his eyes. Taemin squinted at him in concentration, confused by the odd emotion on his friend’s face. 

 

_ “It's been years, but I still miss mom…”  _

 

Oh.

 

Taemin turned his eyes away, guilty. Finally, Kibum answered, though his voice was tiny and quiet. “Yeah, I’m fine with anything…” 

 

Taemin’s mom nodded and shrugged her son off of her shoulder, patting Kibum’s cheek, before digging a pot out of the cabinet. “Run along, now. Mommy will bring it up when it's done.”

 

Taemin toed the ground, grumbling over the endearment, and tugged Kibum up behind him. “Yeah, we’re going, already…”

 

And then, Taemin was pushing them up the stairs and into his messy room. Kibum curled his lip slightly in distaste at the pile of dirty clothes and the pile of monster energy drink cans. He waded his way over to the desk and plucked an empty can from the careful pyramid that Taemin had been working on. 

 

“These will kill you one day, you know…” Kibum offered, raising his brow in Taemin’s direction. 

 

Taemin shrugged, throwing himself back against his bed. “Yeah, well, I guess something has to.”

 

_ “Dumbass…”  _ His face was still full of disgust, but his thoughts were only slightly exasperated. 

 

It was quiet as they looked at each other, energy drink can still in Kibum’s hand. Taemin couldn’t hear any thoughts, so he wondered if Kibum was thinking anything, or if he was thinking something Taemin just couldn’t hear. Was he picturing something? Taemin smiled awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders. 

 

“So…” He pushed himself up from where he had been slouching on the bed, pushing his shirt back into place. “Should we start working on that project?”

 

Kibum seemed to come out of his thoughts all at once, shaking his head to clear it. “Oh, yeah...let’s do that.” 

 

Taemin nodded slightly in confusion. “Yeah, okay.” 

 

The rest of the night proceeded as if nothing had happened, but Taemin had a sneaking suspicion that he had missed something. 

 

\---

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay the night, dear?” Taemin’s mom asked Kibum as the boy was putting his shoes on at the door. “You wouldn’t be any trouble, at all.” 

 

Kibum shook his head with a small smile. “That’s alright, ma'am. I have to get back before my dad wonders where I’ve gone off to.” 

 

Her brows furrowed, but she nodded with a sigh. “Alright, but don’t be a stranger. I miss you kids.” 

 

Kibum nodded and after Taemin’s mom had released him from the hug she had gathered him into, he was gone. Taemin nodded and was about to turn and head back up the stairs when his mother stopped him in his tracks. 

 

“Why don’t you come help me put the dishes away, kid?” Though it seemed harmless, enough, Taemin recognized it for the thinly veiled excuse for confrontation that it was. 

 

“Yes, mom.” He sighed and trudged up the stairs, ignoring the playful swat on the butt that that got him. 

 

It was only after a few moments of drying the dishes in silence before she seemingly couldn’t hold her opinions in, anymore. Taemin had already surmised from her thoughts what it was, exactly, she wanted to talk about, so he prepared himself to be uncomfortable. 

 

“I really think you should be nicer to Kibum.” She mentioned casually, as though she hadn’t been stewing over how to say that very thing for the past five minutes. “I think he’s going through a tough time.” 

 

Taemin sighed. “I’m perfectly nice. He’s one of my best friends, mom.” 

 

“Yeah, but I think sometimes you can be a bit aloof.” He responded, voice carefully placating. 

 

“Third grade reading level, mom. Third grade reading level.” He couldn’t stop the cheeky grin from taking over his face.

 

His mother turned and put her soaping hands on her hips and Taemin fought the urge to point out that she was staining her pencil skirt, knowing that it was best that he stay quiet for a moment or two. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You get into your own little bubble sometimes and you can’t be serious when someone needs you to. I’m just saying that you need to start listening to him. Even when he’s not saying anything.” 

 

Taemin sighed again, this time heavier. “Yeah, I know...I just don’t ever know what to say. He been so sad for so long that sometimes, I forget what he used to be like.” 

 

His mother nodded. “I know, baby. Just promise me that you’ll be kind to him. That’s all.” 

 

Taemin gave her two thumbs up. “I’m always kind. I’m a delight.” 

 

She snorted, snapping the dishtowel against his hip. “Yeah, yeah. God help you, kid.”

 

But that night, Taemin went to bed wondering…

 

_ When had Kibum’s bruises become the new normal? _

 

\---

 

The next day, Taemin shook off the uncomfortable feelings from the previous night like a heavy coat. His day proceeded quite normally: he woke up past his alarm, he got through classes on his mind reading ability alone, and he freaked out over said mind reading ability still not having disappeared. 

 

Would he just be like this for forever? Was there some sort of quest that he was missing? He hadn’t really done anything to deserve this power, so there must be some sort of price that he had yet to fulfill. He was the type of person who generally preferred rolling with the punches, but after several weeks of his grades increasing and passing Jinki’s random quizzes, he was starting to get concerned. Was he going to be stuck this way for forever? 

 

He sighed and rolled out of bed. Sitting around and moping about it wasn’t goIng. to make him somehow not able to read minds, so he decided to carefully tuck his feelings away for later evaluation. It was how he had learned to deal with most things: his parent’s divorce, the death of his dogs. Careful compartmentalizations. 

 

His phone buzzed so he turned his gaze to glance at it. It was Saturday, so he wasn’t expected to be anywhere, so he wondered who could be trying to get ahold of him on a known gaming day. 

 

Oh, fuck. It was Jonghyun.  _ Fuck _ . 

 

He sat up like a rocket, smoothing his hair and smelling under his arms. He wasn’t exactly sure why he did that, because Jonghyun wouldn’t be able to see or smell him over the phone, but still. 

 

He carefully slid his thumb across his cracked screen to accept the call and prayed that his broken screen wouldn’t register it as a rejection as it was known to do on occasion. 

 

“H-Hello…?” He answered hesitantly. Fuck. That sounded lame. He was so lame. Jonghyun would probably never want to call him ever again. Never. 

 

“Hey, Tae! What’s up?” His voice sounded chipper. Way more chipper than Taemin could ever imagine himself being this early in the morning. Knowing Jonghyun, he probably hadn't slept the night before. And yet, somehow, his voice sounded clear of sleep and energetic. Even his insomnia was perfect. Taemin nearly let out a dreamy sigh, but he managed to control himself at the last second. 

 

“N-Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Taemin practically bellowed, then winced at his volume. 

 

“Great! I was wondering if you wanted to hang out with me today? I need your help picking out a birthday present for the Old Geezer.”

 

Taemin nodded and then remembered that Jonghyun couldn’t see him. “Yeah! Sure! Are you able to pick me up, or should I ask mom for a ride?”

 

Jonghyun hummed for a moment before answering. “Nah, I’ll swing by to come get you. Can you be ready in about twenty minutes?”

 

Taemin grinned widely. “No problem! See you thenI”

 

“It’s a date!”

 

He carefully ended the call and then moved the battered phone from his ear to gently cradle it between his palms. It had served him well. He was so happy that he was fairly certain explosion wasn’t entirely out of the question, but he managed to concentrate it into a single, gleeful screech into his pillow. 

 

He had said it was a date. 

 

He had called it a date. 

 

Like, it obviously wasn’t a date, but Jonghyun had used the word ‘date’ to refer to hanging out with Taemin, which meant that the thought didn’t gross him out. Which meant that the concept of ‘date’ and ‘Taemin’ could somehow exist together. This was everything. 

 

He leapt from his bed and started frantically buzzing around his room, picking through his pile of assorted t-shirts that he had yet to put away, for something appropriate to wear. Something that said ‘I know this isn’t a date but if you wanted to make it one, here I am, sexy and available.’

 

Now, Taemin recognized that an old, ratty, WoW t-shirt said none of this, but it was so carefully worn that it was nearly threadbare, which meant that it was impossibly soft against his skin. And in case Jonghyun brushed against him, he wouldn’t want the older boy to be met with rough fabric. So he nodded to himself and picked out one of the few pairs of jeans that fit him currently and practically ran to the bathroom to drown out the stench of his nervous sweat from last night’s Smash tournament with coconut and pear. 

 

Once he was satisfied with his level of cleanliness, he jumped out of the shower and dragged a towel over his body before quickly tugging his clothes on. It was only when he had already buttoned his jeans that he realized that he had forgotten underwear. He paused for a moment or two before shrugging, moving to brush his teeth. 

 

And then, with that done, there was nothing left for him to do but twiddle his thumbs and pace nervously until Jonghyun got to his house. He pulled his phone from his pocket for the thousandth time to check the clock. He still had five minutes. He resumed his pacing. 

 

What was he going to say when he got in the car? Sure, he was head over heels in love with Jonghyun, but he spent very little time alone with the older boy. Would it be acceptable for Taemin to talk about the Smash tournament he had watched the night before? Or would that be weird? He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, gripping the ends in fists. 

 

“Mom!” He suddenly called from the vague direction of her office. “Am I weird?” 

 

It was silent for a second, not nearly long enough for her to have fully considered the question. “Yeah, honey, you are!” She called back. 

 

Taemin groaned. “That’s not the correct answer!” 

 

“Love you, baby!” Another pause. “You need a haircut! I can see your split ends from here!” 

 

He huffed, releasing his hands from his hair and patting it down. “You can’t even see me from there.” 

 

“Exactly.” 

 

Taemin firmly ignored the buzz of her thoughts on his hair and her decision that he needed some new pants that actually fit him. Instead, his eyes turned to the driveway, carefully watching it from the window to make sure that he didn’t miss when Jonghyun pulled up. 

 

Ah, fuck. He was here. What was Taemin supposed to do now? He couldn’t just go out there. He drew in a steadying breath to center himself and decided to wait a grand total of two minutes before walking out. That way, Jonghyun wouldn’t think that he had been waiting by the window for him. Because that was lame, and Taemin needed to be as not-lame as possible today. 

 

It was the longest two minutes of his life. 

 

But then, when the two minutes were over, his reward was that he got to be in Jonghyun’s car. With Jonghyun in it. And that was something that Taemin would have waited forever for. 

 

Jonghyun’s car, though ridiculously small, was always very neat and orderly. He even used those plug in air freshness which always made his car smell like something pleasant like evergreen trees or vanilla bean. Once he was seated with his seatbelt buckled, he took a deep breath and fought the smile from overtaking his face. Finally, he turned to Jonghyun who was sitting there, all perfect with his perfect pink hair and perfect eyes and perfect smile. Even his thoughts were calm and soft.

 

He was so perfect. Fuck. 

 

“You ready to blow this popsicle stand?” Jonghyun asked, voice perfect and chipper just like it had been on the phone. Like it wasn't currently nine am on a Saturday. 

 

Okay, Taemin told himself. You’ve got to stick the landing. 

 

“Roger, Dodger.” And then, he raised both hands into two perfectly formed fingerguns. 

 

Nailed it. 

 

\--

 

When they got to the mall, it was early enough that there were few people, which was better for Jonghyun who had a slight fear of crowds. Taemin wasn’t even annoyed that they had to wake up so early to get there, if that meant that Jonghyun could be more comfortable. 

 

They had started by aimlessly walking around, mostly window shopping, before Jonghyun suddenly stopped and turned to look up at Taemin. “So, Tae, what should I get for Jinki? A video game? Does he play games?” 

 

_ “I wouldn’t even know where to begin with video games...Good thing Taemin is here.” _ Taemin had to fight a smile at Jonghyun’s thought, a warm knot of happiness weighing heavily in his stomach.

 

Taemin thought for a moment, crossing his arms in concentration. Jinki didn’t enjoy gaming as much as himself. Or even as much as Minho. But, he was a sucker for collector’s editions. Of anything, really. So he figured that if they stopped by a shop that sold video games or dvds, then there would be something there that Jinki would like. It irked Taemin slightly that his friend group thought that he and Jinki could communicate through some sort of nerd telepathy, but unfortunately, Taemin was right more often than he was wrong when it came to Jinki. 

 

Twenty minutes later, and they had decided that the collector’s edition of Avatar the Last Airbender was a suitable present that was both cool enough and nerdy enough to represent Jonghyun and Jinki’s friendship. Jonghyun even shelled out an extra fifteen for the poster that came with it. Taemin knew that Jinki wouldn’t ever hang it up, afraid that that would deteriorate the value of the collection, but it was a nice thought. 

 

“Do you need to find a present for Jinki, while we’re here?” Jonghyun asked, carefully slipping the bag with his present into the small leather backpack he carried.  _ “Does he know Jinki so well that he doesn’t even have to think of something?” _

 

“Nah, I’ve got that covered.” Since Taemin and Jinki had been small children, they had an established system of coupon book trading for holidays. Taemin even got a coupon book on Easter, even though Jinki was Buddhist. Taemin would make a couple of coupons for completing some of the quests that Jinki had been muddling through on Runescape to max out one of his skills, and call it a day. 

 

“Oh. Okay, cool.” Jonghyun grinned.  _ “I guess they’re pretty close, after all…” _

 

Taemin frowned at Jonghyun’s thought, wondering at the slightly somber tone to it. He and Jinki had known each other longer than any of the others in their friend group. Looking at Taemin’s group of friends, it would be easy to assume that they had flocked to each other in order to form a stronger Korean front in a predominantly Wonder-Bread-Mayo-Sandwich based town, but the had all met in middle school at the same group counseling session. They had all recently lost a parent in some way or another. Taemin’s dad had just left his mother in a messy divorce, Kibum had just lost his mother to cancer, Jinki’s dad had been killed overseas on active duty, Minho’s mother and father had thought it better to quit while they were ahead for the sake of their sons, and Jonghyun’s dad had just...disappeared one night with a suitcase full of his belongings and all of their money. But before the group therapy, Kibum and Taemin had gone to the same middle school. And Taemin and Jinki’s families had lived down the street from each other and often had meals together. 

 

So while he was closer to Kibum and Jinki, it was because he had simply known them longer. Did that upset Jonghyun? 

 

“Honestly, my presents to Jinki usually aren’t that great, so I gave up putting a ton of thought into them years ago. Jinki’s going to really love what you got for him.” He smiled reassuringly to Jonghyun, eager to hear his thoughts take another turn. 

 

“Really, you think so?” Jonghyun asked, face still carefully chipper, though Taemin could tell from his thoughts that he was grateful. 

 

“Of course!” Suddenly, his phone began to buzz in his pocket. He retrieved the device carefully, not eager to drop it, and checked his texts. He turned his attention back to Jonghyun. “Hey, the others want to have a movie night at Mango’s tonight. You in?” 

 

Jonghyun grinned. “Yeah, sure. But let him know that he better not pick The Notebook, again.” 

 

Taemin typed in the response, including Jonghyun’s comment. A moment later, his phone buzzed, once more. 

 

_ Mango Choi: its my house so if i want to watch the notebook im going to watch the fucking notebook. Its a good movie u fuckers. _

 

Jonghyun read the text over Taemin’s shoulder, which felt nearly numb from Jonghyun’s presence, alone. He begged his heart to calm down, but it was going nuts in his chest. He focused on making sure that his breathing was steady and calm. 

 

_ “Minho is such a dork…” _

 

The thought turned Taemin’s attention back to his phone, which had gone off without him noticing.

 

_ Mango choi (number one the notebook enthusiast): taemin u fuck change my name back _

_ Mango choi (number one the notebook enthusiast): and pick up some popcorn before u come over _

 

Taemin grinned and typed out a response. 

 

_ Dick Fingers™: ill mke sure 2 gt u sme tissues 2 _

 

_ Mango choi (number one the notebook enthusiast): fuck u very much. _

 


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the day was spent in a Jonghyun-filled bliss. Taemin couldn’t remember ever having spent so much time with the older boy, and it only served to affirm his love. Jonghyun was just so perfect. In literally every way. And they had fun together; Taemin could tell from Jonghyun’s thoughts. 

 

But before he was really ready, they were standing in line at the grocery store with a box of Kleenex and some microwave popcorn. It seemed like Taemin had merely blinked and they were knocking on Minho’s front door. Jonghyun’s thoughts were mostly scattered words, but they seemed happy, so Taemin tried to feel less down, but he was already missing the day. 

 

Minho opened the door after a few moments, ushering them into the living room where the two other boys were already sprawled across the couch. Jinki was in his pajamas which made Taemin wonder if he had been wearing them all day and had simply come over to Minho’s as he was. 

 

Taemin shuffled over, nearly tripping over the edge of the rug, and planted himself between Kibum and Jinki, settling under the comfortable weight of their sprawled legs. 

 

_ “Cute…” _

 

_ “What a dork.”  _

 

Taemin hadn’t been paying enough attention to determine who had been thinking what, but he shrugged off the compliment and the insult, turning to Minho, who was slumping down into the loveseat with Jonghyun. 

 

“Where’s Daddy Choi?” Taemin asked, glancing around the room as if Minho’s dad was hiding somewhere. 

 

_ “In the kitchen.”  _

 

_ “In the kitchen.” _

 

_ “He’s probably in the kitchen.” _

 

_ “Why does he keep calling my dad that?” _

 

Mr. Choi must have heard Taemin because he did, indeed, poke his head out of the kitchen to glance around the living room. “I’m right here! Was that you, Taemin? How is your mother doing?” And then, in his head.  _ “He needs a haircut.” _

 

Taemin huffed and fiddled with the ends of his hair. It wasn’t that bad, was it? “She’s the same as always. She’s working on a case, right now, so she’s been at the firm, a lot.” 

 

_ “That Hae. She’s always working.”  _ Mr. Choi thought for a moment before grinning. “Well, you tell Hae-Lee to come over for dinner, sometime.” Mr. Choi was a pretty accomplished chef, so it was not an offer that Taemin’s mother would refuse. 

 

Taemin grinned. “Yeah, I’ll let Hae-Lee know.” 

 

His mother absolutely hated to be called Hae-Lee because so many people mistook her first name, Hae, and her last name, Lee, to be some weird spelling of the name Hailey. It had become something of a joke to those who had known her for a while, and it never failed to get a reaction out of her. 

 

Minho turned his head to look at his dad. “Mrs. Lee is going to kill you one of these days.” His thoughts were amused, though. 

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Mr. Choi began to retreat into the kitchen. “Anyway, I’ve got some kimbap in here if any of you want.” Then he turned his attention to Taemin, once more. “And that means you, too, Taemin. Your mother keeps telling me that all you eat is ramen noodles.” 

 

Taemin groaned. “I hate that our parents talk to each other. How lame.”

 

“There’s nothing more lame than a heart attack!” Mr. Choi called.

 

Taemin crossed his arms and ducked his face into his t-shirt, sinking even further into the couch. One by one, each of the boys shuffled into the kitchen to grab food and when the only one left was Taemin, Minho nudged him with his toe. 

 

_ “Dad is going to tell Mrs. Lee if he doesn’t eat something at least somewhat healthy” _

 

“C’mon, dude. Your turn.”

 

But then, Kibum was flopping back onto the couch with a plate full of food. “It’s alright, I got enough for both of us.” 

 

Minho nodded, satisfied, and moved into the kitchen. Kibum pushed the plate into Taemin’s lap. Taemin grinned. “Hey, thanks, my dude.” 

 

It wasn’t that he  _ didn’t  _ want to eat. It was just that making something other than ramen noodle was so much effort. That, and he honestly didn’t know how to do much other than boil some water. He shrugged the fleeting embarrassment from Mr. Choi’s scolding and start scarfing down food, paying little attention to whether or not he left enough for Kibum. 

 

However, rather than scold Taemin for taking more than his share, Kibum seemed to be only affectionately exasperated. But before Taemin could really puzzle out why that was, exactly, Minho stood before the tv. 

 

“Alright, what are we going to watch?” His voice was as even and confident as usual, but his thoughts were small and quiet.  _ “I hope that it's nothing scary…” _

 

Taemin grinned and raised his hand, waiting to be called on. 

 

“Yes, Taemin.” Minho allowed. 

 

“The Ring! We haven’t watched that in forever.” It wasn’t that he was  _ trying _ to be a dick, but the last few times they had had a movie night, he hadn’t been allowed to pick a movie and he was slightly bitter over that fact. 

 

“Taemin, don’t be a dick.” Jinki warned. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I know that tone of voice.”

 

Jonghyun raised his hand, and Minho called on him. “Why don’t we watch a Ghibli movie? We haven’t watched one of those in forever, either.”

 

Minho seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. “All opposed?” 

 

No one spoke. 

 

“Good. The floor is now open to suggestions.” And then quietly in his head.  _ “Thank God.” _

 

Taemin ignored the jumble of thoughts pondering titles and plotlines. The noise was had to wade through but once he focused on his own thoughts, it died down to mere background noise. He didn’t have a  _ favorite  _ Ghibli movie, but he had a few that didn’t enjoy as much as some others. He raised his hand and waited. 

 

“Yes, Taemin.” Minho called. 

 

“I move to have Arrietty removed from the ballot.” 

 

And then, chaos ensued. 

 

“Taemin what the fuck?” Kibum screeched.  _ “That’s literally my favorite one what the hell.” _

 

Jonghyun stared at him with wide eyes. “Why do you hate happiness? And joy?” His thoughts were an affronted mess that Taemin didn’t attempt to untangle. He loved Jonghyun, but he refused to budge. 

 

Jinki was quiet, but Taemin could surmise from his thoughts that he was miffed. 

 

“Guys! Guys!” Minho called. “Taemin, why do you want to remove Arrietty?” His thoughts were not nearly as impartial.  _ “This better be fucking good.” _

 

Taemin shrugged. “There’s not enough magic. It’s boring.” 

 

Jonghyun stood from the loveseat, hair in tight fists, and paced around the living room. Kibum’s head fell against the back of the couch, and he stared blankly up at the ceiling. And Jinki, seemingly, fell apart. 

 

“What the fuck, Taemin?” Jinki cried. “They’re tiny people living in a tiny house in a bigger house with bigger people? What part of that is boring?” He dragged a hand down his face.  _ “Who would have known that he would eventually betray me in this way _ .”

 

“It just is, dude. I don’t know what you want.” A pause. “And besides, the concept is kinda creepy.”

 

Jinki’s eyes were full of betrayal. “You mean The Borrowers? It’s a fantastic book. Holy shit.”

 

Taemin clasped Jinki’s hand between his. “It’s creepy. It’s okay to admit it. We can get you the help you need.”

 

_ “What the fuck is happening.” _ Minho suddenly called their attention back to him. “Guys, does anyone even  _ want _ to watch Arrietty?” Silence. “Then it isn’t that fucking serious. Now someone suggest a movie so that I can move on with my life!”

 

“Boys! Language!” Mr. Choi called from the other room. 

 

“Sorry!” They all chorused. 

 

Kibum sighed and looked up, once more. “Howl’s Moving Castle.” 

 

“Anyone opposed?” Minho asked. 

 

Silence. 

 

“Finally. Fuck.” Minho groaned, moving to turn on his Amazon Fire Stick. 

 

“Minho!” Mr. Choi called out in warning. 

 

“Sorry, Dad!”

 

\---

 

They were halfway through the movie when it happened. At first, Taemin thought that it had been a mistake, but when it happened the second time, this time slow and with purpose, he knew that he wasn’t simply imagining things. 

 

Kibum’s long fingers were warming the skin of his upper thigh through his jeans and Taemin wasn’t entirely sure how he was meant to respond to this. Sure he was pretty casual with all of their friends. In fact, Jinki’s bare feet were resting on his knees, right now. But none of their friends had ever touched him with such purpose before. What was this?

 

He focused his attention on Kibum’s thoughts and found that there was nothing of use, there. Was he just overreacting? For all intents and purposes, Kibum’s attention was on the movie. So, was Taemin trying to make something out of nothing?

 

But Kibum’s hand was really high up on his thigh. A single twitch of his fingers and he would brush against Taemin’s clothed dick. Taemin took a few careful breaths. The strain of attempting to  keep his dick limp and harmless was only proving to do the opposite; his mind focused on the warmth and movement of a hand on his thigh. His dick didn’t seem to mind that it was  _ Kibum _ who that hand belonged to. 

 

His eyes swept frantically across the room. Jinki was lying comfortably on one end of the couch, long legs forcing Taemin and Kibum close together. Jonghyun’s head was resting against the crook of Minho’s neck, and Minho’s head rested atop Jonghyun’s, their height difference making the pose seem comfortable. 

 

No one seemed to notice Kibum’s hand on Taemin’s thigh, or if they did, they weren’t thinking about it. So maybe Taemin  _ was _ making a big deal out of nothing. 

 

And besides, their closeness seemed to make Kibum happy, if his slight smile was any indicator. And Kibum was so unhappy all the time. Taemin wanted Kibum to be happy, he really did, but he wasn't very good and knowing how to do that. So if sitting there and letting Kibum put his hand uncomfortably close to Taemin’s dick made him happy, then Taemin would allow it. 

 

The rest of the movie passed in similar fashion, Taemin fighting to keep his dick under control and Kibum pressing insistently against him. Thankfully, Jonghyun didn’t seem to notice, so Taemin wasn’t worried about him getting the wrong idea. 

 

Before he was really even aware of it, the credit were rolling and the movie was over. Minho stood from the loveseat, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. “Alright, who’s staying the night?”

 

Jinki was obvious, already asleep on the sofa. Jonghyun seemed to be about halfway there. Taemin, on the other hand, had a full night of questing with Jongin to get to and had already spent a lot of his free day socializing. He stood from the couch, hands on his hips, and twisted from side to side to pop his back. 

 

“I gotta jet, Mango.” A pause. “Oh, but can somebody take me home?” 

 

Minho groaned, and from his thoughts it appeared that he was prepared to get his keys and shoes, when Kibum stood from the couch. “I can take you. I need to get going, anyway, before my dad comes looking for me.” 

 

They all knew what that meant, but none of them spoke. Kibum had sworn them to secrecy and though they all wanted to help him, wanted to tell their parents, they feared what type of consequences that would have. If they would be worse than what Kibum already had to deal with. 

 

Taemin gingerly stepped closer to Kibum. “Okay…”

 

Kibum nodded and moved to the front door to retrieve his shoes and keys. “Thanks for having us, Minho.”

 

Minho nodded. “Anytime. Drive carefully.” And they all knew what he was really talking about.  _ “Why can I never do anything to help him? I’m such a shitty friend…” _

 

Taemin winced at Minho’s thought. Truth be told, Minho was a better friend than Taemin was. Taemin had known Kibum for most of his life, and yet, more often than not, Taemin liked to forget that Kibum’s dad beat him. Because he could do nothing to fix it, he pretended it wasn’t even happening. He ducked his head guiltily and allowed Kibum to usher him out the door. 

 

Nearly the entire drive to Taemin’s house, Kibum’s thoughts were consumed by his father. What was going to happen to him tonight. Whether or not his father would be intoxicated when he returned home. If he had remembered to sweep up the broken beer bottle from the night before so that it couldn’t be used as weapon. What he could do to appease him before things got out of hand. Taemin felt so weighed down by Kibum’s thoughts, that he kept his face turned towards the window so that he wouldn’t have to look at his flat expression. 

 

Taemin felt guilty,like there was something that he should be doing instead of just sitting in the car quietly and allowing Kibum to become lost in such awful thoughts. Minho had been incredibly worried, and that was just going off of the assumption that Kibum was in danger. Knowing for a fact that Kibum was not only in danger, but that he was scared, made Taemin’s guilt a thousand times more intense. 

 

He should be  _ doing  _ something. But before long they were pulling into Taemin’s driveway, and his time was up. He didn’t move to get out of the car, immediately. Instead, he finally turned his face towards Kibum’s, watching him. 

 

After a moment or two, Kibum seemed to realize that they had arrived. “We’re here.” He announced, though it was more like he was telling himself. 

 

He turned to look at Taemin, and his face was so confused, with just the slightest bit of fear lacing his expression, that Taemin felt prepared to crawl out of his skin, the guilt was so intense. What type of friend was he? To get out of the car and let Kibum drive off. As though he didn’t know. As if he hadn’t just spent the fifteen minute car ride privy to Kibum’s fear. Maybe  _ this  _ was the price that he had to pay for his ability. There was a lump in his throat and an even heavier weight in his belly, keeping him rooted in place, unable to move. 

 

Kibum’s expression was searching.  _ “I wonder...if he’d let me…” _

 

Taemin blinked slightly in confusion, though prepared to do anything if it meant that Kibum would just think of something  _ else _ . Anything to get him out of the car and away from these terrible thoughts. 

 

Kibum was moving closer, and Taemin forced himself to stay still. A pause. Just long enough for a shuddering exhale of air. And then, Kibum’s lips were pressing against his, and Taemin couldn’t  _ breathe.  _ What the  _ fuck  _ what Kibum  _ doing _ ? Taemin had never kissed anyone before, but he was sure that the moment wasn’t supposed to be filled with confusion and lips that were too wet. Wasn’t he supposed to be seeing sparks? Was this what all the hype was about? And why the  _ fuck  _ was he getting his first kiss from Kibum?

 

He was fully prepared to push the boy away. Had even raised his hands and placed them against Kibum’s shoulders. But then, Taemin heard his thoughts. 

 

_ “It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone and it felt nice.” _

 

And then, the guilt was back and the heavy weight in his stomach, and it was enough to keep him rooted in place. Taemin wasn’t a very good friend. He knew that. But he could do this. He could touch Kibum without hurting him. He could allow himself to be kissed. 

 

So, Taemin did what he did best and pushed his feelings to the side for later evaluation. He focused on individual parts of his body, forcing himself to go limp. It didn’t feel  _ bad, _ so he wasn’t sure why he was making a big deal out of it. Maybe he was afraid that Kibum would think that this meant something, that Taemin wanted to be with him. But that was silly. Kibum had spent fifteen minutes ruminating over the beating that he was surely going to get, tonight. He just wanted to feel something  _ else _ for a little bit. Taemin could understand that. He could do that for him. 

 

Just as he had decided that maybe, possibly, he could kiss Kibum  _ back _ , the older boy was pulling away. There was a trail of saliva connecting them, still, but eventually even that broke. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears that he couldn’t make out what Kibum was thinking, but the boy’s face was flushed and Taemin wondered if he was embarrassed over what they had just done. 

 

“Was that okay…?” Kibum asked hesitantly. And there was something on his face that told Taemin that if he said no, Kibum would never do it again, but a part of him would be lost to Taemin. 

 

And Taemin might not be a particularly good friend. A considerate friend. A friend who put Kibum before himself. But Taemin loved Kibum. Like a brother. Like someone precious. And it wasn’t often that Kibum depended on him. Asked for something from him. So Taemin nodded. 

 

“Yeah...yeah, that was okay…”

 

And it was. 

 

_ “Thank God…” _ The relief was obvious in Kibum’s thoughts, and he was grateful that he hadn’t rejected him. Was grateful that he had done something that Minho hadn’t been able to do. Had eased Kibum’s suffering, if only for a moment. 

 

“Yeah?” Kibum’s eyes were shining with some unfamiliar emotion. 

 

Taemin nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“O-Okay. Good. Yeah, good.” Kibum lifted a hand to pat at his hair, which was still perfectly in place. 

 

“I...I should…” Taemin gestured to his house. 

 

“O-Oh! Yeah! Of course.” 

 

He nodded and unbuckled his seatbelt, opening the car door and shifting to step out. But then, he was tugged back and Kibum’s lips were pressed against his, once more. And there was more movement. More than before. And then Kibum’s tongue was pressing against the seam of Taemin’s lips. Taemin gasped in surprise at the unexpected action which only gave Kibum room for his tongue to dart inside, pressing against Taemin’s limp one before moving on to explore the inside of Taemin’s mouth. 

 

Taemin had never imagined that having someone’s tongue inside his mouth could feel so  _ good _ , but it was better than the other kiss. The guilt was gone, and something else was taking its place. Something that was making his pants feel tight and his palms sweaty. 

 

And then Kibum was pulling back, eyes serious for a moment or two before he smiled. And he looked so  _ happy _ and Taemin smiled back. 

 

“I’ll pick you up Monday morning?” 

 

And it was like nothing had happened, but it had because looked so incredibly happy and  _ Taemin  _ had done that. 

 

He nodded. “Just text me to make sure I didn’t sleep through my alarm.” 

 

Kibum sighed. “You’re such a mess, Taemin.” 

 

He offered two thumbs up. “Yeah, but I’m your mess.” 

 

Kibum’s eyes widened for a moment before his smile seemed to get even bigger.  _ “Mine.” _ He thought. “ _ My mess.” _

 

Taemin blinked, wondering what it was he had said. He decided that he needed to get inside before his foot managed to find its way down his throat anymore firmly. 

 

“Well, see you, then.” And then he was making his escape, this time faster than he had before. He stumbled to the door, fumbled with his house key. And then he was inside. He shut the door behind him, leaning heavily against it, his lips still tingling. 

 

Kibum’s car was pulling out of the driveway, but Taemin didn’t dare to move from his spot. 

 

“Taemin, is that you, baby?” His mother called from the living room, stepping into the hall in his nightgown and mussed hair. She must have been waiting for him. 

 

Taemin stepped forward. “Yeah, mom, it’s me.” And then he was nuzzling his way into her arms, head under her chin and her long nails scratching through his hair. He had to bend down so that he could reach her, something that he couldn’t remember having to do as a child, but the feeling of her cheek against his head and her fingers in his hair was the same as it always had been. 

 

When was the last time Kibum had felt a cheek against his head? Fingers through his hair? Taemin figured it had been a long time. 

 

\---

By the time Monday came, Taemin had decided that since the kissing didn’t bother him too terribly much and it made Kibum happy, then he could tolerate it. As long as Jonghyun didn’t find out. He didn’t want this, whatever it was, to stand in the way of any chances that he had with the older boy. 

 

He’d even asked Jongin what he should do while they were questing. 

 

_ Ace: pretend that hypothetically a friend kissed me, but i’m pretty sure it was no homo _

_ Ace: but i am still homo _

_ Ace: very homo _

_ Ace: the Biggest Gay _

_ Ace: anyways _

_ Kai: i mean i guess theres no harm done? R u cool with it? _

_ Ace: i think so? As long as my crush doesnt find out… _

_ Kai: well if its just casual i dont see a problem w/ it but thats me _

_ Kai: boi get that troll _

_ Kai: did u really just let me die u fuck _

_ Ace: boi i had to defend myself _

_ Kai: thats the last time i give u any of my sage advice _

 

At the time, Jongin had made perfect sense. It wasn’t like Jonghyun and Taemin were already dating, so it wasn’t like Taemin couldn’t kiss Kibum. Kibum just needed to understand that if the time ever arose where Jonghyun was interested in him, the kissing would have to stop. 

 

Decided, he had been perfectly prepared to lay down the law to Kibum, but when he had slipped into the passenger seat, he found himself suddenly tongue tied. Kibum was positively radiant, glowing beside him in the car even though his wrists has finger shaped bruises on them that he had tried to cover with bracelets and his cheek was swollen under his makeup. 

 

It was such a contradiction. That he could look so battered and happy at the same time. Taemin couldn’t take that away from him. So he decided to wait before saying anything. 

 

“Good morning!” Kibum chirped beside him. “How did you sleep?”

 

Taemin blinked. He couldn’t recall Kibum ever really giving a shit, before. “Fine...and you?”

 

His face darkened for a moment before the emotion was gone. “As well as can be expected.”

 

Taemin nodded and reached over to pat the back of Kibum’s hand in reassurance, but at the last moment, Kibum turned his hand up to intertwine their fingers. Squeezing once, before letting go. 

 

“My study guide is in my backpack if you want to look it over…?” Kibum offered, eyes still trained on the road. Taemin’s brows rose in surprise. Kibum had never volunteered his work, before. “Did you do the reading for first period?” 

 

Taemin ducked his head. “Ah, no I didn’t. I got caught up last night and forgot…” 

 

_ “Same old, same old…” _ His thoughts were full of warm affection. “That’s okay. I can summarize it for you.”

 

Taemin nodded in open mouthed shock. Is this the treatment that two kisses got him? He found himself grinning. “Hey, thanks!”

 

_ “Cute…” _

 

His smile faltered slightly at that thought, but he did a remarkable job of not letting it show. 

 

And amazingly, the rest of his day proceeded in similar fashion. Kibum wasn’t anywhere near as prickly as Taemin was used to him being, and instead of scolding Taemin for slacking off, he seemed to find some sense of happiness from helping out.Taemin, never being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, didn’t question it. Sure, Kibum was touching him way more than ordinary, but it wasn’t hurting Taemin to go along with it, so he did. 

 

Besides, Jonghyun had decided to eat lunch with the jazz band kids, so he wasn’t there to see Kibum brush crumbs off of Taemin’s lip with his thumb, or slide his wide palm down to hold Taemin’s hand under the table. 

 

Minho had raised an eyebrow at him, a clear question in his thoughts, but Taemin had merely glanced pointedly down at Kibum’s hand on the table, bruises on his wrist exposed. He begged Minho mentally to go along with it, and thankfully, the older boy let it go without further comment. 

 

“Where did Jinki run off to?” Taemin asked, suddenly noticing that their oldest was missing. 

 

Minho shrugged. “I think he had some sort of meeting with the physics club that he couldn’t miss. Ah, that reminds me.” Minho turned to his backpack to pull out a tupperware container. “He gave me some soup that Mrs. Lee made. He brought it for lunch, but he won’t have time to eat today, so he told me to bring it for everyone, else.”

 

“Sweet!” Taemin cried in excitement. Jinki’s mom made the best chicken noodle soup. 

 

Kibum smiled at Taemin and stood from the table. “Here, I’ll go stick it in the microwave.” And then he was gone, pleasant thoughts trailing after him. 

 

Minho suddenly turned to him. “What the fuck is going on between you two?”

 

Taemin sighed heavily. “Dude, I don’t know. All I know is that he got his ass kicked by his dad last night and has been hanging all over me all day.” He carefully left out the part about them making out in Kibum’s car the previous night. Minho didn’t need to know that. 

 

Minho watched his face carefully.  _ “It looks like he’s telling the truth…” _ Taemin fought down the offense at the thought. “Dude, just be careful. Kibum’s all delicate and shit. You could hurt him.”

 

Taemin narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him on purpose. I’m not an asshole.”

 

_ “Well…”  _ Minho shook his head, hopefully clearing it of such thoughts. “I know you wouldn’t do anything on purpose, just...I don’t know...Just watch your ass.”

 

“Noted…” Taemin mumbled, sinking low into his seat. 

 

But before anything else could be said, Kibum returned with the soup and some plastic spoons and Minho, thankfully, didn’t bring it up again. 

 

\---

 

That night, Taemin was in the middle of playing Overwatch with Minho when he got a message over Skype from Kibum. He read what he could of the message in the preview before turning his attention back to the game. 

 

“Hey, Mango. I got to go after this round.” He announced, directing his Widowmaker into the corner or a tall building to have a better vantage point. Some might have said that choosing the chicken suit skin cost him some visibility, but he just couldn’t resist. As a result, he had to stay tucked away a little further than he would have liked. 

 

“Hmmm…” Minho hummed. “Yeah, okay. I should probably get in a bit of practice for the game this weekend.” 

 

The finished the match as quickly as possible (which wasn’t very quickly, at all) and Taemin turned his attention to Skype, ending his call with Minho and bringing up the message from Kibum. 

 

Bum: Hey can u skype me, i need someone to talk to

Taem: yeah, im calling rn. 

 

Taemin hit the call button and after two rings, Kibum answered. He didn’t have his camera turned on, but his voice was shaky and Taemin could hear the occasional puff of breath.

 

“Hey, everything okay?” Taemin asked, pull up his Smash emulator so that he could play while we was talking. 

 

It was quiet for a moment or two before Kibum answered. “Can I come over?”

 

Taemin glanced at the clock. His mother would still be at work for a few hours, so they would have to wait to eat, but it wasn’t like he was busy doing anything. “Yeah, sure.”

 

“Okay…” A pause, a deep breath. “I’ll be over in a few.” And then, he ended the call. 

 

Taemin blinked. The call had only taken five minutes. He was a little confused, but he didn’t question Kibum’s odd behavior. Maybe his father had beaten him, again. It had been happening more frequently and it had made Kibum’s mood drop considerably more. 

 

Before long, Taemin’s phone was buzzing to inform him that Kibum was outside. He headed downstairs to open the front door. He had barely managed to get the door open when Kibum flew past him and up the stairs. Taemin blinked and stared at the stairs, closing the door behind himself and hesitantly making his way up after him. 

 

Kibum’s thoughts were all over the place, and Taemin wasn’t really sure what to make of that or what he was meant to say or do about it. He decided to act as normally as possible, guessing that was what Kibum wanted from him. 

 

He entered his room and sat down at his desk, carefully looking at Kibum from the corner of his eye. He didn’t appear to have any new bruises, but he couldn’t be sure what lay under his large hoodie. 

 

“So...what’s up?” Taemin asked hesitantly, like Kibum were an easily excitable animal. 

 

Kibum didn’t say anything, but he seemed to be thinking something over though his thoughts were still too scattered for Taemin to make much sense of them.  _ “I want to….if only I...Would he...I’m not sure…” _

 

After a moment or two, he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, meeting Taemin’s stare head on.  _ “I’m going to do it.” _

 

“Buddy…?” Taemin questioned. 

His response came in the form of Kibum standing suddenly and grabbing Taemin’s hand, tugging him closer. And then, Kibum was pressing lips against his and Taemin shuddered at the curious mix of pleasure and confusion that came with the kiss. 

 

It didn’t last long before Kibum broke away, looking into Taemin’s eyes with a sort of fierceness that sent another shiver down his spine. “Yeah?” Kibum asked, moving a palm up to cup the back of Taemin’s neck.

 

Taemin wasn’t really sure what Kibum was asking, but he wanted that good feeling back, so he nodded. “Yeah…”

 

Kibum’s lips were chapped, but they felt good rubbing against Taemin’s. Taemin had no working memory of ever having kissed anyone before Kibum, and since he had nothing to base it on, he thought that this kiss with Kibum was the best kiss in the history of kisses.

 

But then, it wasn’t just lips on lips. It was lips on neck. Lips on earlobe. Lips on collarbones. Taemin shivered, not knowing what he was meant to be doing. What was he supposed to do with his hands? He kept them firmly planted on Kibum’s hips, but that felt wrong. He turned to Kibum’s thoughts, hopeful of some sort of advice, but his mind was blank. 

 

And then.  _ Oh _ .  _ That _ had felt good. He tilted his neck so that it would happen again. Right below his jaw. Teeth nibbling skin and tongue chasing away the hurt. He certainly had never felt  _ that _ before. 

 

His dick was getting hard in his sweats and he knew, before long, Kibum wouldn’t be able to ignore it. It would  _ there _ right against Kibum’s leg and then things would be terribly awkward for both of them. More awkward than it already was. Taemin tilted his hips carefully out of the way while Kibum was carding fingers through his hair (when was the last time he washed his hair? Did it feel gross?). 

 

But to his surprise, Kibum merely moved his hands to Taemin’s hips and pulled him closer, grinding against his dick, which was now standing at full attention. Taemin let out a tiny little gasp at the sensation; he thought he sounded pretty lame, but Kibum seemed to enjoy, eyes narrowing in delight. 

 

Taemin wasn’t really sure what was happening. What it would mean for their friendship (because he still  _ like _ liked Jonghyun quite a bit), but still, it felt too good for him to pull back. Should they be talking about this? He was almost positive they should be talking about this. 

 

But then, Kibum’s hands were down his pants and no one had  _ ever _ touched him like that. His hips rolled into the sensation without him even thinking about it. Was that okay? Was that what was supposed to happen? His hands were still on Kibum’s hips. Should they be?

 

_ “That’s it...that’s it…”  _ Kibum’s thoughts drifted into his ear, and for some  _ strange _ reason, Taemin found himself burying his head into the crook of Kibum’s neck and  _ moaning _ . 

 

His breath was escaping in pants against Kibum’s damp skin and  _ damn it, what should he do with his hands _ ?

 

Kibum took care of the problem for him, turning them so that Taemin fell back onto his mattress which was still covered with yesterday’s clean laundry. Holy shit, was he about to have sex against a Mickey Mouse t-shirt? How lame was that?

 

Kibum didn’t seem to mind, carefully plucking his hands up and placing them beside his head. “Just keep them there, baby. I’ll make you feel good.” 

 

Taemin blinked. Baby? Was that who Kibum thought he was? Should he say something? Kibum’s thoughts didn’t seem to give anything away, so Taemin wondered if he was thinking of someone else. Was he touching Taemin’s dick and sucking his nipples and thinking about someone else? Should Taemin do the same?

 

He thought of Jonghyun, plump-lipped and pretty, licking at his nipples, and he keened, dick dripping in Kibum’s closed fist. Kibum seemed happy at the reaction, so Taemin allowed himself to remember the way that Jonghyun’s ass had looked in his new jeans the day before yesterday. 

 

Jonghyun was so  _ perfect _ . And Taemin wanted him. So badly. He nearly called his name, but he managed to stop himself at the last minute. He knew very little about sex, but he figured that that had to be a faux pas. 

 

Kibum came up for air and stared down at him imploringly. “How far do you want to take this?” 

 

Taemin wasn’t one hundred percent what it was that Kibum was talking about, but he didn’t want to seem like some pathetic newbie, so he forced his shoulders to relax and he answered with false confidence. “Wherever you want, bro. Life is a highway.” 

 

Kibum’s smile was exasperatedly endeared.  _ “Even like this, he’s still such a dork.” _

 

Taemin took that as a good sign and nodded when Kibum moved to remove his shirt, lifting his torso slightly to allow the movement. And then went his pants. And then, holy shit, he was  _ naked _ . He was capital-N  _ Naked _ with his weeping dick in Kibum’s fist. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Was this happening? Where were his hands? Oh yeah, Kibum put them by his head. Okay. He could deal with that. 

 

Oh wait, Kibum was sucking his dick, now. 

 

“I’mgonnacumI’mgonnacum…” Taemin whimpered, unprepared for just how deeply Kibum could manage to get his dick down his throat. He was morbidly impressed. 

 

And then Kibum was pulling off and staring down at him with this  _ look _ . “Did that feel good, baby? Did you like that?”   
  


Taemin nodded vaguely, still shaking from the phantom feeling of Kibum’s mouth on his dick. If he had been asked two hours ago if he ever thought Kibum would suck his dick, he would have laughed, but now, with Kibum’s saliva cooling on his still-hard cock, he wasn’t laughing. 

 

Instead, he was looking up at Kibum like he was made of some magical substance. “How did you get so good at that?” He asked in awe.

 

_ “Yeah, that’s right. I’m pretty fucking magical.” _

 

Instead of giving voice to his thoughts, Kibum ducked down to lick a trail up his chest, puffing hot air on his ear before chuckling. “A _ lot _ of practice.”

 

“O-Oh…” And somehow, Taemin was panting. How did that happen? It was probably because he had come scarily close to blowing his load down Kibum’s throat and while they were traversing quite a few boundaries, tonight, he was almost  _ positive _ that that wasn’t one of them. 

 

“Are you good now?” Kibum asked mischievously. 

 

Taemin blinked in confusion, thoughts still clouded by pleasure. “Wha--Oh. That. Yeah, the capital has been secured.” 

 

Whereas normally, Kibum would have groaned at such a response, tonight he only grinned and went back to fondling Taemin’s dick. Taemin wondered if maybe this whole sleeping with his best friend thing wasn’t so bad, if only it meant that Kibum looked less at him like he was an idiot. In fact, Kibum seemed quite impressed by Taemin. And Taemin couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, he had impressed  _ anyone _ . Maybe it was okay, then, to be okay with this. 

 

Maybe it was okay that Kibum was sliding a condom on him. 

 

With that thought, Taemin allowed himself to grip Kibum’s hips and buck up into the impossible heat that was hugging his dick so closely. Allowed himself to fully immerse himself into the feeling of an ass on his dick, and divorced it from belonging to Kibum in particular. After all, he was sure Kibum was thinking of someone else. Just like Taemin had some vague impression of Jonghyun in his mind while he was thrusting into Kibum. 

 

Kibum’s head was lolling back, deep throated groans pouring out. Kibum seemed to grow tired of Taemin’s inconsistent thrusts because with the last one, his eyes flew open and he leaned forward, removing Taemin’s eyes from his hips and pushing them back onto the mattress. And then, Kibum was grinding so painfully slowly against Taemin, eyes domineering and fierce. 

 

“Does that feel good?” Kibum asked softly, eyes trained on Taemin’s face. He almost felt embarrassed by the attention and he wanted to turn his face away, but didn’t. 

 

And how could it  _ not  _ feel good? Was that an option? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Kibum’s ass was squeezing the life out of his dick, so he threw his head back against his fucking Mickey Mouse t-shirt and begged for more. 

 

_ “He would look good with a cock in his ass…” _

 

The thought shocked him into turning his attention back to Kibum who was still focusing so intently on his face. He let his shock slowly slip away, figuring that, well, yeah, he  _ would _ look good with a cock in his ass. And the thought of there  _ being  _ a cock in ass made his dick twitch and stomach twist and he was  _ almost  _ there, again. 

 

Kibum seemed to sense that he was close because his grin turned wild, and he sucked a finger into his mouth before letting it drift down to Taemin’s clenching hole. And then it was fondling the rim. And then it was pushing. 

 

And then, holy  _ shit _ Kibum’s finger was up his ass and Taemin was still in  _ Kibum’s _ ass and what the fuck was he supposed to do with his  _ hands _ ?

 

And then, he was cumming, harder than he could ever remembering cumming in his life. So much that he was surprised that it didn’t somehow overflow in the condom. He panted for breath, chest pulsing up and down in order to compete with his heartbeat which had somehow taken up residence in his ears. He hadn’t been paying much attention before, but now he really couldn’t hear Kibum’s thoughts. 

 

And then, Kibum was pulling off of his dick and pumping a fist rapidly up and down his own dick and finishing with a grunt into his fist. Taemin peeled the condom off of himself distastefully while Kibum plucked a few tissues from the nightstand to clean his hand. 

 

And then, it was over, and Taemin had had sex with his best friend. He felt all of the energy leave his body in one fell swoop, eyes drooping. He could see Kibum out of the corner of his eye pulling his jeans back on. Taemin fought to stay awake because he was sure that was what he was meant to do, but Kibum patted his cheek and smiled softly down at him. 

 

“You can sleep, you know. I need to get home, anyway.” His smile was soft and though he wasn’t thinking of anything, in particular, his thoughts felt soft. Like a blanket. Taemin smiled back in response, wishing he could bottle those soft thoughts and carry them around with him. They felt nice. 

 

The next thing he knew, Kibum was gone and he was waking to the sound of his furious alarm alerting him that it was time to get ready for school. For a moment, he wondered if last night had really happened. But then he glanced down to his pants, which were still tangled with his legs, and he sighed. 

 

There was a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach that he wasn’t really sure how to lessen. 

 

What the fuck had he just let happen?


	4. Chapter 4

By the time he had finished his morning routine, he had managed to convince himself that what had happened the previous night was, in fact, real. Thankfully, Jinki was picking him up for school instead due to a project that Kibum had to get to school early to work on. 

 

The sight of the beat up minivan sitting in the driveway filled him with more relief than he thought he would have felt. It wasn’t that he regretted what had happened or that he felt what had happened had been against his will, it was just that he wasn’t sure what he would say to Kibum in the aftermath. Would they be able to be friends still after this? He hoped so. Kibum was one of his best friends. He wasn’t sure what life would be like without him in it. 

 

Jinki rolled down the window and glanced at him from over the rim of his tiny sunglasses. “What is my name?”

 

What the fuck. Taemin shook his head and concentrated for a moment to jog his memory of any sort of pop culture reference that could be alluding to. It had to be a riddle from something by virtue of it always being a riddle, but this one was particularly vague. 

 

And then he magically remembered that he could  _ read minds _ . Holy shit. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he had somehow managed to forget the near constant buzzing of thoughts outside. He smiled at Jinki. “Rumplestiltskin.” 

 

“Fuck, I didn’t think you’re get that one.” Jinki grumbled, unwillingly unlocking the car so that Taemin could get in. 

 

Taemin blew a plume of imaginary smoke from the end of his finger gun and pretended to stick it in his pocket. “All in a day’s work.” He glanced behind him and saw the backseat completely empty. “We picking up anyone else?”

 

Jinki shook his head and reverse out of the driveway. “Not today. Just the two of us.”

 

“Fucking sweet!” Taemin called, pulling his phone out and jamming the aux cord into the headphone jack. They were only allowed to listen to the music of their choice when they were alone. A moment later and the Skyrim soundtrack was drifting through the speakers, all beautiful and majestic. Taemin sighed in content and reclined his seat all the way in order to take in the music. 

 

Jinki’s thoughts buzzed in satisfaction, and Taemin was glad that he could easily ignore them because part of their ritual was the lack of speaking. Just pure absorption. They didn’t stop when they pulled into the school parking lot. Jinki simply slipped the car into park and reclined his set, too, sighing in delight when the main theme started up. 

 

They were so busy becoming one with the minivan via osmosis that Taemin almost didn’t register that someone had knocked on the window. Startled, he rolled it down only to come face to face with Minho, dressed in his soccer uniform and drenched in sweat. 

 

Taemin rose a brow at him. “Dude, school hasn’t even started, yet, and you’re disgusting.”

 

Minho scoffed. “Yeah, like you’re one to talk. Anyway,” And he turned his attention to Jinki. “Hyung, give me a ride to the gym so I can shower before class. It's too far to walk if I don’t want to be late.” 

 

Jinki stared mournfully at the speakers before nodding, allowing Taemin to unplug his phone. “I’m going to get out here,” Taemin announced. “My class is right in there.” He pointed to the main educational building. 

 

Jinki nodded. “See ya at lunch.”

 

Taemin grinned and saluted. 

 

“At ease!” Minho grinned, swapping places with Taemin. And then, the minivan was rolling away at a snail’s pace and, honestly, Minho probably could have walked faster. Shrugging, Taemin turned and headed into the building. 

 

He was about to enter the room where he had first period when he was stopped by Kibum who was waiting for him outside the classroom. His thoughts seemed pleasant enough, but his posture was tense. Taemin wondered if he was picturing last night, and Taemin just couldn’t see it. 

 

Kibum grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him close. “Hey, how are you feeling?” 

 

Taemin thought that it was atypical of Kibum to ask, but he shrugged. “Pretty good…?”

 

“And here…?” Kibum asked, letting his hand drift down his elbow to his ass, palming it lightly. 

 

Taemin flushed and skittered away, conscious of anyone standing in the hallway who might have seen. Thankfully, there weren’t many. “Y-Yeah, I’m good, my dude.”

 

Kibum shrugged. “Alright...Anyways, I was wondering if I could come over tonight?”

 

His very was fairly suggestive so Taemin knew what he was really asking. Did he want that? If it was anything like last night, then he sure as hell did. But at the same time, did he really want to encourage Kibum?

 

A pause to consider it. Well, it had been pretty good. And he wouldn’t mind feeling like that, again. 

 

“Y-Yeah, okay…”

 

“Perfect.” And it was murmured right into his ear. When Kibum pulled back, he was smiling with all his teeth and what was the last time he had smiled like that? Taemin figured that made it worth it. 

 

“Perfect.”

 

\---

Fuck. There was no other way to describe the way that he was feeling. He was fucked. Well, he was  _ going to be  _ fucked, if Kibum’s thoughts from the previous night was anything to go off of. He went through the rest of his day in a state of mild panic, leg bouncing constantly under his desk, to the point where Minho had to elbow him sharply in the side to get him to stop. He was so distracted that he even answered incorrectly when he was called on in his last period class, unable to concentrate long enough to register any of the thoughts in the room. 

 

And then, the final bell was ringing and he was done with school for the day and he was walking out the door and Kibum was  _ right there and fuck _ . 

 

He was leaning against his car, hands in his pockets. Totally casual in a way that told Taemin that he had taken quite a bit of time to arrange himself in such a way. His were trained on Taemin, tracing his every move as the boy crept slowly towards him. 

 

_ “He’s going to look good on his knees…” _

 

Fuck, shit, damn, fuckity fuck. It wasn’t that he  _ didn’t  _ want Kibum’s dick in his ass. In fact, he thought he would want that very much. Instead, it was like he was knee deep in shit and was facing having to wade to neck-deep levels. He hoped that Kibum knew what he was doing, because Taemin sure as hell did not. 

 

A deep breath to center himself, and then he was standing in front of Kibum, and he couldn’t avoid it, any longer. 

 

He ducked his head down, eyes trained on the tops of his shoes. “Yo, homie.” 

 

Smooth. 

 

He couldn’t see, but there was a smile in Kibum’s voice. “What’s up?” And in his head,  _ “It’s about to be my dick.” _

 

And, yeah, that did it. Taemin’s dick was already starting to swell just at the mental image that that thought provided him with. He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat and found enough bravery to lift his head. If Kibum could be super casual, than Taemin could be super casual, too. Besides, he  _ really really  _ wanted Kibum to do just what he was thinking. 

 

In a total, ‘we’re just friends’ kind of way. 

 

“Should we get going?” Kibum asked gesturing to the car. 

 

Taemin nodded, totally not freaking out at all whatsoever, and managed to get himself into the car and his seatbelt buckled without looking like a total idiot. And then, the car was started and they were rolling away from the school. 

 

But to Taemin’s surprise, they didn’t head to his house straightaway. Instead, Kibum turned off the highway towards the only diner in town, the one where Jinki usually worked on the weekends. Taemin raised a brow when they pulled into the parking lot, but Kibum’s thoughts gave nothing away other than excitement. 

 

“What are we doing here?” Taemin finally asked, marveling at the novelty of the situation. He had rarely had to ask a question like this since he had awaken with his abilities. 

 

Kibum turned to him, eyes so light and happy that Taemin couldn’t help but smile. “I thought maybe we could grab some food before we head to your house? Would you like that?” 

 

_ “I hope this is okay…” _

 

Taemin nodded, smile dimming somewhat at Kibum’s uncertain thoughts. “Yeah, thanks! I’m starving!” A pause. “Ah, shit. I don’t have my wallet with me.” 

 

Kibum seemed perplexed for a moment.  _ “Why would he need…?”  _ “I’m paying, of course.”

 

‘Of course,’ Taemin wondered. What did he mean by ‘of course?’ Maybe Kibum was simply having a stroke of good fortune and wanted to share it. Maybe Taemin was extra charming today. Either way, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he was quick to leave the car and enter the building, seating himself at the booth that he and his friends liked to frequent.

 

Kibum meandered in after him, sinking into the booth across from him before long, and glancing down at the paper menus that decorated the table. 

 

_ “Isn’t that Hae’s kid?” _ Taemin glanced up at the thought, looking around the room, finally meeting eyes with the cook behind the counter. 

 

“Hey, Ernie! How are you?” Taemin called, waving. 

 

Ernie smiled and wave back. “Hey, kid! I haven’t seen you in a minute! How is Hae doing?”

 

“She’s good; busy as always, but good!” He grinned. Ernie’s thoughts seemed to reflect general happiness at seeing him. 

 

Ernie’s eyes narrowed for a moment in concentration before he focused on Kibum. “Is that Kibum you’ve got with you?” 

 

Kibum nodded shyly. “Hey there, Ernie.”

 

_ “Poor kid...Must be hard being the kid of the town’s drunk…” _

 

Taemin winced. While growing up in a small town was nice when your family was fondly thought of, it was a curse for Kibum. Everyone knew that his dad had gone off the rails once his mother had passed. 

 

Ernie nodded in greeting. “It’ll be, oh what’s that called, Chuseok soon, right?”

 

Taemin gave two thumbs up. “You got it, buddy!”

 

“You boys spending it together, again?” Ernie grinned.  _ “It’s good that some things around here never change. It’ll be good for Kibum to have some good friends around for the holiday” _

 

“Yeah, Jinki’s mom has got some scheme cooking up, I’m sure.” Jinki’s mom took much greater pleasure in maintaining Korean traditions than his own mother did, and Mrs. Kim and Mr. Choi were more likely to just go where they were told, anyway. 

 

Ernie nodded. “Suji sure hasn’t changed in all these years, I’ll tell you that!” His thoughts turned to their empty table. “Same as always, boys?”

 

Taemin turned to Kibum for confirmation and then nodded at Ernie. “Yup! Same as always!”

 

Ernie chuckled. “Two same as always’s coming right up!”

 

He called for Mrs. Ida to bring them some sodas and then they were alone. The diner was buzzing with the sizzle of the grill and the quiet chatter of the locals scatter across the bar and the few booths. Taemin and, really, anyone else who had grown up in the town had spent much of their time at Ernie’s, and Ernie had lived in the town for most of his life, so there was a good chance that if Ernie didn’t know you, he knew your parents.

 

He turned his attention back to Kibum who was staring down at the menu in concentration, though it wasn’t necessary. 

 

_ “He was thinking about Dad, I know he was…” _

 

Determined to get his mind off of his dad, Taemin rattled his brain for potential topics of conversation, but only one came to mind. “So...Looking forward tonight.” He winced at how lame that had sounded, but it was too late to say something else. He threw in a brow wiggle hoping that would save it, somehow.

 

Kibum stared at him for a moment, wide eyed and empty minded, and then he suddenly laughed. Then, his hand was reaching across the table and plucking up his. “You are such a dork, do you know that?”

 

Taemin pretended to haughtily examine his nails. “I have been told that, once or twice.”

 

Then, Kibum’s voice turned serious. “ _Are_ you excited about tonight? You’re not just going along with it, right?”

 

Taemin bit his lip guiltily, because a part of him  _ was  _ just going along with it for Kibum’s sake, but a larger part of him did really  want to feel as good as he had last night. And besides, it didn’t appear as if  Kibum was trying to make their arrangement  into something that it wasn’t. Sure, Kibum had been extra nice to him all day, but they had had  _ sex  _ last night, so wasn’t that just a side effect of that? He thought so. 

 

“Of course not. I can’t wait.”

 

He hoped so. 

 

\---

  
  


Taemin blinked and he was being pushed down onto his bed, pants around his ankles and shirt bunched up around his armpits. Modern science really was incredible. Thankfully, his bed was clear of laundry though he was nearly positive that the bag of cheetos he had been snacking on before he had fallen asleep the previous night was still floating around. 

 

Kibum placed his knee on the bed, moving to lean over and then,  _ crunch _ , ah, there they were. Kibum blinked down at him in surprise at the noise.  _ “What the fuck…?”  _ he wondered, and then, out loud. “What the fuck was that?”

 

“Uhm...Cheetos?” Taemin offered hesitantly, the cool air in his room blowing uncomfortably on his bared nipples. His dick twitched in his boxers in response. 

 

Kibum blinked again and then, there was a disbelieving smile on his face, somewhere between amusement and disgust. “Are you seriously getting turned on because of Cheetos?”

 

“Listen, buddy, don’t kink shame me.” Taemin asserted because somehow, letting Kibum believe that a bag of Cheetos turned him on was more acceptable than letting him know that a gentle breeze had his dick standing at attention. 

 

How the fuck are Cheetos a kink? Taemin was such a fucking idiot. Or wait. Maybe that was a possibility. And avenue that he had yet to explore. After all, Taemin  _ had  _ been eating Cheetos the first time he stuck his hand down his pants. Maybe it was fate that they be there the first time that a dick was shoved up his ass. 

 

But then, Kibum’s hand was in his underwear and it didn’t really matter anymore. Taemin groaned at the unexpected motion and his knees twitched on either side of Kibum’s hips, the ball of his left foot knocking against the back of Kibum’s knee. His heart was beating in time with the rhythm that Kibum was maintaining on his dick, which was to say that Kibum was fisting Taemin’s dick like it was the last thing he would ever do. 

 

Taemin whimpered at the harsh pace and his knees twitched again. And literally, what the fuck even  _ was _ that noise? Totally not cool. Even the tone of Kibum’s thoughts were vaguely amused at it. And Taemin couldn’t have that. He wondered if he should groan a little to make up for it? Or he could lower his voice so it got all gritty and sexy? But, then again, that could make him sound like he was trying to dislodge something from his throat. Which would be totally not cool or sexy, at all. 

 

And whoa, Nelly, Kibum was twisting his wrist and pressing an insistent thumb against the slit of Taemin’s dick and suddenly, he didn’t really care what he sounded like, anymore. Kibum’s eyes were narrowed in concentration and, really, Taemin couldn’t imagine that anyone had ever stared at a dick with such intensity before. He was so focused on what he was doing that Taemin felt that he should maybe not just sit there like an idiot. So, he braced his feet against the bed and bucked up in an attempt to readjust to make it easier on Kibum. However, he miscalculated and only managed to shove his dick closer to Kibum’s face. His cheeks burned in response and, really, how was it possible that he was so bad at the sex thing?

 

_ “Hold on, baby…”  _ Kibum grinned, or really it was a smirk, and ran his hand up Taemin’s dick one final time, slow this time and teasing. “Is that what you want, baby?” Kibum asked, licking his lips. 

 

Taemin wasn’t really sure what he was asking, but figured that Kibum wanted him to agree, so he did. To whatever it was. “Y-Yeah…”

 

And then Kibum was swallowing his dick down and Taemin’s fingers were holding Kibum’s hair like a lifeline and holy shit, was it  _ normal _ to swallow an entire dick with no problem? Or maybe Taemin’s dick was just small. Holy shit, did Taemin have a small dick?

 

And then Kibum was pressing at a spot inside of him that made Taemin arch his back and twitch and clench and holy  _ shit _ , he was going to cum so hard that his fucking heart was going to stop. The pleasure tore a high-pitched noise out of his throat, and his eyes went impossibly wide, and he was nearly convinced that he had somehow managed to astral project his soul into the sun. 

 

What the fuck?

 

Kibum blinked and stared down at him, thoughts occupied by a quiet  _ “I barely touched him…”  _ Taemin could feel blood rushing to his cheeks in embarrassment. He was supposed to be really cool, right now. Totally suave. Much more put together than he had been the first time. And yet, there they were, Kibum’s fingers up Taemin’s ass and Taemin flushed from the neck down because he almost came just from the brush of a finger. 

 

“Are you doing alright?” Kibum asked hesitantly, finger twitching in Taemin’s ass. 

 

Taemin blinked and returned to the physical realm, nodding his head absently. He wasn’t  _ not  _  okay, after all. “Y-Yeah...Just surprised me is all…”

 

And then, in an effort to not seem so completely awkward, Taemin reached up and dragged Kibum into a long, open mouthed kiss, making sure to pay special attention to how he used his lips and tongue in order to seem more experienced than he was. He knew that Kibum was already aware of his painful lack of experience, as was evidenced by the previous debacle, but Taemin was feeling embarrassed and his shame was making him brave. 

 

Either way, Kibum didn’t protest, throwing himself into the kiss and moving his fingers, once more. And then, before Taemin could really catch up, fingers were drawn away from his body and something thick and blunt was prodding at him. 

 

_ “I need this so bad…”  _ Kibum groaned in his mind, though his voice was perfectly even when he asked, “Are you ready…?”

 

Taemin wasn’t sure how to answer that, but he figured that he would never  _ be  _ ready if all he did was lie there and wonder if he was. So he nodded, tightened his arms around Kibum’s neck, bracing himself for whatever this was about to feel like. 

 

And then Kibum was thrusting into him and just squeezing himself into Taemin’s body. There was pain, at first, but it wasn’t intolerable. Taemin fought to keep his body from clenching all over, nails digging into the pliant flesh of Kibum’s back. Kibum shushed him and ran a soothing hand down his side, remaining perfectly still though Taemin could hear his thoughts begging to move. 

 

And Taemin had really only ever been able to give Kibum what he wanted, so he relaxed his grip and thrust his hips upward experimentally, shuddering when the movement brought a fresh wave of sting. Kibum took it for the queue that it was and took up a tentative rhythm, trying out different angles and levels of force until slowly, the pain melted away into a low, burning pressure. Taemin’s dick was still hard against his stomach, so he reached down to palm its weight only to have his hand knocked away so that Kibum could take the swollen length into his hand, fisting it so quickly that the sudden onslaught of pleasure left Taemin slack jawed and gasping. 

 

_ “That’s it, baby…”  _ Kibum’s thoughts murmured, wrapping around Taemin and sending a new jolt of heat rocketing to his dick.  _ “Don’t hold back…” _

 

It went on for quite some time like that, the thrusting and the groaning and the thoughts. Eventually, Kibum’s rhythm began to stutter into unpredictability, thoughts losing any sort of coherency, and before long, he slammed into Taemin a final time and shuddered from the tips of his toes to the very top of his hand. Taemin was grateful that his mother wasn’t home to hear the loud keen that feel from Kibum’s lips without shame or muffle. 

 

Taemin was prepared for it to be over, then, ignoring the throbbing in his own groin, but before he could really begin to will away his erection, Kibum was fisting his dick, again, pace even and showing not a bit of the exhaustion that the rest of his body was from where it was slumped against Taemin. 

 

A few quick jerks and he was there, Kibum’s condom covered cock still in his ass and reminding him of what they had just done and how good it had felt. It was little time before he came so hard that his jizz managed to shoot all the way to his nostril, which made him snort in surprise, drawing the jizz further into his nostril, leading to a near asphyxiation that had Kibum both hysterical and concerned. Like Taemin’s close encounter with the afterlife was  _ funny _ . Asshole. 

 

\---

 

Okay. That had been good. Really good. The goodest. When could he do it again? Right now? He turned to Kibum who was thoroughly out of breath and sighed. Okay. Maybe not right now. 

 

When he and Jonghyun got together, would it be that good? He hoped so? He almost turned and asked Kibum for his opinion, but stopped himself last minute. Kibum didn’t seem up to talking, if the quiet buzz of his scattered thoughts was anything to go off of. 

 

Suddenly, Kibum rose from the bed and started to drag clothes on. “I should get going…”

 

Taemin nodded. “Yeah, your dad is going to wonder where you are…” It was unfortunate, but it was true. 

 

“See you at school. Minho is picking you up tomorrow.” Then, Kibum leaned down and brushed lips against Taemin’s, and Taemin dragged him down even further to hold him closer. 

 

Kibum chuckled and forced himself away. “I want to stay, trust me, but my dad is really not going to be happy, as it is.” 

 

Taemin nodded. “Yeah, okay. See you.”

 

The funny thing is, however, that Taemin did  _ not  _ see Kibum at school the next day. Which was strange because Kibum had said that he  _ would  _ see Taemin. And why would Kibum say that he was going to see Taemin at school if he wasn’t planning on showing? Taemin figured that he was sick and brushed it off, going through the rest of day with little more worry. 

 

But then, at lunch, Minho was looking around the lunchroom with such obvious worry on his mind, that Taemin felt guilty for having shrugged it off earlier. “Has anyone seen Kibum, today?”

 

Taemin shook his head. “He wasn’t in class, today. Maybe he’s sick?”

 

_ “He went to school last year with a fever, so I doubt it…”  _ Jonghyun pulled out his phone. “I’ll text him, and ask. His phone is surgically attached to his hand so he should respond pretty quickly.”

 

They waited in silence for seven minutes. 

 

“Should someone go check on him? I could skip last period and drive over to his house…?” Jinki offered.  _ “If I get Suho to turn in my homework for me, then I can pretend to be sick…: _

 

Minho shook his head. “That probably wouldn’t help. If Mr. Kim is home, that will just make things worse for Kibum.” 

 

Taemin was starting to feel panic creeping up his throat. His hands were shaking, so he hid them under the table. He had probably been the last one to see Kibum. If something had happened, would the police ask him what they had been doing together? Would he unintentionally wind up in the middle of something terrible? “What do we do, then?” 

 

_ “I knew I should have…” _

 

_ “I could leave right now, even…” _

 

_ “Where could he be where could he be…” _

 

“He answered!” Jonghyun finally called, nearly jumping from his seat. “‘I had a doctor’s appointment this morning, so I just skipped’ I mean, I guess that could be true? He doesn’t have a reason to not tell the truth…”

 

The vibe of his friends’ thoughts was generally suspicion, but they seemed to grudgingly accept it. 

 

“W-Well, I guess that’s it, then?” Taemin eventually offered. 

 

Minho’s brows were still deeply furrowed, but he nodded. “I guess so…” 

 

But still, something didn't quite sit well with Taemin. He had an awful feeling. A truly awful feeling. 

 

\---

 

That night, he got a message from Kibum on skype, asking if they could video chat for a little bit. There was a cold sweat prickling the back of his neck, but Taemin left his raid group immediately, ignoring the loud complaints of his friends. 

 

“Sorry, guys, I need to go right now.” 

 

And then, he ended the call and called Kibum. The older boy picked up after only two rings. 

 

And Taemin almost regretted that Kibum had upgraded to a high definition camera a few months prior because he looked worse than Taemin could ever remember him looking. There were red splotches on his face, on his cheeks and near his jaw. And where he wasn’t red, he was a myriad of other colors: black, blue, yellow, and pale. Really pale. And just below his jaw were a set of bruises that Taemin knew matched up with two hands. A split lip. Black eyes. The whole nine yards. 

 

“B-Bummie…?”

 

“Hey, baby…” Kibum whispered, voice hoarse. “How are you?” 

 

Taemin blinked, not even paying attention to the petname. “Kibum what the fuck happened to you?”

 

Kibum shrugged. “My dad saw this last night.” And then he tugged his t-shirt down only a centimeter to reveal a large hickey. One that Taemin remembered leaving the night before. Ah fuck. 

 

“W-What?” Taemin’s forehead with beading with sweat now, and his throat was so constricted that his voice sounded nearly as hoarse as Kibum’s. 

 

Kibum chuckled darkly and ran a hand through his hair before wincing at the cast on his wrist pulled. “I guess I’m not allowed to date anyone? First time I’ve heard of it, of course.” 

 

“D-Date anyone?” Taemin’s attention focused on that single point and he felt panic swelling his senses. 

 

Kibum’s brows furrowed. “Well, yeah?”

 

“But we’re…” And he wanted to cry. Wanted to cry that he had managed to play a part in what had happened to Kibum without even knowing it. Because Taemin was an idiot. And he was never aware of his surroundings. And damn it, how could this have happened? “We’re not…”

 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Kibum asked, though Taemin could see that something akin to panic was starting to crease his features. 

 

Taemin swallowed thickly, mouth dry, and swallowed again when that didn’t work. “I-I need to go.”

 

“Taemin, what the fuck?!” Kibum yelled, voice cracking viciously. 

 

Taemin shook his head, turning his eyes away so he didn’t have to look at him. “I just need to go.”

 

And then, white hot fury was filling every line of Kibum’s face. 

 

“We’re  _ seeing _ each other, you dick! You’re supposed to be here for me!” His eyes scrunched up in misery, drawing attention to the black bruises that ring both of them. 

 

Taemin flinched away from his screen, panic making him cruel. “ _ ‘Seeing each other,’  _ what the fuck does that mean? We were never  _ seeing _ each other!” 

 

Kibum’s jaw clenched and unclenched and his split lip seemed to become agitated at the motion, fresh blood dotting the wound. “But we were sleeping together! What do you call that?!” 

 

He ran his shaking hands through his hair, gripping it tightly into two fists, hoping that the pain would ground him, somehow. “I call that sleeping together! What the fuck, dude!” 

 

Taemin wanted to scream. To start throwing things. He settled for releasing his hair and banging an angry fist on his desk. His pyramid of monster energy drink cans went tumbling, but he could hardly straight long enough to pay it any mind. 

 

As always, his thoughts turned to Jonghyun. Did he know about this? Did he know that he and Kibum had been fucking each other for weeks? Who else had Kibum told? Did the whole school think they were dating? He didn’t want that. He didn’t  _ want _ to be dating  _ Kibum _ ! For fuck’s sake, they had grown up together. He had never thought of Kibum that way. It hadn’t even been his idea to start sleeping together. He had just gone along with it. Like he always did. Kibum had always led and he had always followed, he had trusted that this time would be no different. 

 

Fuck.  _ Jonghyun _ . He had wanted very little in his life. Had been content to let others gently guide him into place. But he had  _ wanted _ Jonghyun. For such a long time. Were his chances with the boy ruined, now? Jonghyun was graduating soon. Was going to some arts school far away. Was the small sliver that he had left of Jonghyun’s life gone, now? He felt tears stinging his eyes and he wasn’t sure what to do. He felt numb from the neck down, but from the neck up he was burning. 

 

He turned fierce eyes back to Kibum. Kibum with his busted eyes and busted lip and busted way of thinking. What had he been  _ thinking _ ? Taemin understood perfectly well that Kibum had a fucked up family. Understood that Kibum needed someone to depend on. Someone who was his. But Taemin  _ couldn’t _ be that for him. He  _ couldn’t _ allow himself to be tricked into something that he had never asked for. He couldn’t let Kibum be in charge, this time. And Jonghyun. His Jonghyun. But not anymore. Never. 

 

“This better not have gotten back to Jonghyun…” He hissed from behind his teeth, clenching down hard to bite back some pathetic whimper that he never wanted to give voice to. 

 

Kibum might have gasped, but Taemin couldn’t clearly enough to make sure. His face had gone pale and it only served to make him look even more battered. “You can’t mean that.”

 

Taemin shook his head to clear it. “We’re not dating and we never were, so stop telling people that.” 

 

“T-Taemin, wait!” Kibum called, eyes widened in panic. 

 

“Bye.” 

 

And then Taemin ended the call. Once he was alone in his room, he couldn’t stop himself, anymore. The tears stung as they fell, burning a trail down his cheeks. He still felt so numb, and it was so unnerving that he banged his fists against his desk some more. And then he stood and flipped his chair. And then tore the blankets from his bed. 

 

And when that did nothing to return the feeling to his fingers, he sunk to the floor, curled up in the fallen blanket, and cried himself to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

He woke the next morning with dry eyes and a clear head. It was while he was blearily brushed his teeth that he realized that, perhaps, he had overreacted. Was Kibum okay? Was he safe? Taemin hadn’t stopped long enough to find out last night. It was with a sinking feeling in his gut that he accepted that what had happened to Kibum was partially his fault, and if anything else had happened after the call, then that was his fault, as well. 

 

Kibum hadn’t texted him who was picking him up for school, so he texted Jinki to see if the older boy would be able to stop on the way to school to get him. The moment Jinki told him that he would be there in ten minutes, Taemin allowed the panic to really set in. What if Kibum was getting a ride from him, too? Was he ready to face Kibum after last night? Did he have a choice?

 

Before he could really decide, Jinki was honking his horn and Taemin was locking his front door behind himself. 

 

When he approached the van, it was with butterflies fluttering in his stomach and sweaty palms. He had seen from the window that Kibum was in the van. It was too late, though, for him to just walk to school. So, he mustered up what little courage he had at his disposal, and forced one foot in front of the other until he was standing right before the driver’s side window. 

 

However, instead of rolling down the window and asking for the answer to some puzzle, Jinki just nodded and unlocked the door behind him, allowing Taemin to slide it open without further comment. 

 

Taemin raised both brows in surprise at this. Jinki very rarely didn’t ask for the answer to some ridiculous riddle before Taemin was allowed in his car. He hoped that the older had merely forgotten and that something wasn’t wrong, but from the tired set of Jinki’s eyes, he could tell that his hopes would soon be dashed. He swallowed thickly and slid into the seat beside Kibum without a word. 

 

However, once the door slid shut, he was hit by a wall of thoughts. 

 

Jinki stared blankly ahead, eyes trained on the road, but his mind was working a mile a minute.  _ “I could talk to mom, I’m sure she would understand...Mr. Kim has gone too far this time. He can’t stay there.” _

 

Taemin glanced at Kibum from the corner of his eye, but the boy was focusing his stare out his window so Taemin couldn’t see his face. 

 

Did Jinki know about last night? Did Kibum tell him? Would Taemin have to endure the rest of the day with knowing glares directed his way? Did Jonghyun know?

 

He shook his head to clear it. It was selfish of him to only worry about what the others would think of him, but Taemin was a selfish person. It had never occurred to him to get Kibum out of his situation. He never wasted thoughts on wondering how Kibum was going to survive the night. Because he was selfish and being selfish was easy for him, he tucked those thoughts away in the part of his mind that didn’t want to deal with them. 

 

However, the intense guilt that followed was something that not even selfishness could force away. This was his fault. This one was on him. He only hoped that the cut on Kibum’s lip wouldn’t scar like his eyebrow had when he was eleven. He only hoped that Kibum wouldn’t have to carry the evidence of Taemin’s selfishness around for years to come. He turned his eyes back to Kibum, but the boy wouldn’t  _ look  _ at him. And that just made his guilt worse, so he forced his face away. 

 

He felt more than heard it, drifting towards him with purpose, a tickle against the back of his neck. 

 

_ I’m going to kill him. _

 

It was whispered with certainty. Lacking in hesitation or preamble. It sent a shiver rocketing down his spine, prickling the hairs on his arms, and drying the saliva on his tongue. It was only the incredulous realization that Kibum was the owner of such a thought that chased the immediate fear away. Surely Kibum was just upset. Surely Kibum was talking about someone  _ else _ . Kibum was irrational, sometimes, but he wasn’t a  _ murderer _ . He turned cautious eyes to his companion and though Kibum’s eyes were flat and cold, calculating almost, they were not malicious nor violent. A calm tempest. 

 

It was that flat stare that welcomed the fear back. It was so intense that Taemin nearly asked Jinki to pull over so that he could just walk the rest of the way. But soon, they were pulling into the school and Kibum was sliding the door open. Then Kibum was gone, taking his thoughts with him, and Taemin was compartmentalizing what had just happened. Kibum was his best friend, and best friends didn’t  _ kill  _ each other, surely. 

 

Taemin was selfish, so he decided all on his own that he played too big a role in Kibum’s life for such a thing to happen to him.

 

\---

 

It was at lunch that Taemin decided that, perhaps, what had happened in the van hadn’t been a fluke, after all. Kibum had ignored him all day, not even looking at him if he could help it, and his mind had been occupied with only one thought. 

 

_ “I’m going to kill him…”  _ Kibum’s mind had whispered when their hands had accidently brushed in first period. 

 

_ “I’m going to kill him.”  _ Kibum had thought in the middle of their German quiz. And then, in German,  _ “Ich werde ihn toten…” _

 

_ “I’m going to kill him. _ ” This time, decisively from across the lunch table. 

 

It was a line of thought that had occupied Kibum’s stream of consciousness often enough throughout the day that Taemin was starting to feel the beginnings of shellshock tickling the tips of his fingers. 

 

How fucked up as it, to know that his best friend wanted him dead, but to not be able to tell anyone? What evidence would he even have?  _ Oh, yes, I can read minds, Mr. Police Officer and that’s why I know that Kibum is really going to kill me. _

 

He felt ill. Absolutely ready to vomit. A few days ago, Kibum would have marched him to the bathroom and placed a damp paper towel on the back of his neck, but this time, Kibum was only observing him through cool eyes. 

 

Taemin winced and turned his eyes away, unable to look at him any longer. He spied Jonghyun across the cafeteria, with the music kids. Jonghyun was so beautiful. All high cheekbones and wide eyes. Would he be dead before he got to hold his hand?

 

Holy shit, Taemin was going to die. 

 

He stood from the table, ignoring the curious glances that earned him, and stumbled out of the room. No one attempted to stop him, too occupied with the myriad of bruises that decorated Kibum’s face. Makeup could only do so much, after all. 

 

Thankfully, the bathroom was empty, so when Taemin pushed his way into an empty stall, there was no one to witness him falling to his knees and tilting his head over the empty bowl. He had time to note that someone named Hayden was apparently gifted at giving blowjobs before he was expelling a putrid mix of breakfast and stomach acid. 

 

He felt like a cup, filled to the brim and ready to spill over. How was he supposed to triumph over this feeling of intense dread? How was he supposed to reconcile that his best friend was planning on killing him? Was there anything that he could even do to stop him? Had he made such a mess of things that that was now impossible?

 

His breath was coming out in heavy puffs, anxiety making his throat swell and his knees quake. He just managed to fight back about round of vomiting and decided that even death couldn’t feel as bad as this.

 

He slumped against the wall of the stall and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, fishing his phone out of his back pocket. His throat burned and his eyes were watering, but he ignored the sting in order to focus on the task at hand. 

 

_ How to prevent my best friend from murdering me yahoo answers _

 

Three self help websites and a buzzfeed list. 

 

Great. 

 

\---

 

His breakdown in the bathroom had provided him with enough of a clear head to get through the rest of the day. He pushed his fear and anxiety away to the part of his head dedicated to feelings that he didn’t want to deal with and decided that he would just have to convince Kibum to change his mind. Somehow.

 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been too successful in getting Kibum to talk to him. He went through the rest of his day with nothing more than a cold shoulder. He hadn’t even bothered to boot up his computer when he got home. 

 

Taemin had very little experience when it came to getting someone to not want to kill him, so he wasn’t really sure where to begin when it came to Kibum. He could shower him with gifts or be extra nice to him, but Taemin was fairly certain that that was nowhere near enough to actively get Kibum to change his mind and spare his life. 

 

With a sigh, he turned his attention to his computer, deciding to start it, after all. If he could just talk to Jongin, then maybe he could get some sound advice that would actually help him rather than what he had been able to discern from google. 

 

He flipped his computer on and patiently waited for it to turn on, pulling an energy drink out of his mini fridge and popping it open. He tapped his thumb impatiently as he waited, nearly jumping when his desktop pulled up, several notifications going off subsequently. They must have been from last night, after he had turned his computer off. 

 

Oh, fuck. They were all from Kibum. With a rapidly beating heart, Taemin hesitantly clicked his Skype window open, blinking at the sheer mass of messages that flooded his messenger. 

 

_ Bum: Taemin, please answer me _

_ Bum: Taemin, come on _

_ Bum: You’re being such a dick right now _

_ Bum: just tell me what i did wrong _

_ Bum: how can i fix this _

_ Bum: i never wanted this to happen _

_ Bum: taemin i swear to god _

_ Bum: i really dont want to be alone _

_ Bum: im sorry for whatever i did… _

 

And then finally, three hours later…

 

_ Bum: fine.  _

 

There was sweat pooling on the back of his neck and the crooks of his elbows and he wondered if that final message had been the beginning of the end, or if the end had started long before then. What series of mistakes had contributed to Kibum wanting to end Taemin’s life. He knew that he was a shitty friend. That he didn’t listen and that he pretended nothing was wrong, but did he deserve to die?

 

There was the sound of the front door clicking open and Taemin nearly shrieked in fear, thinking Kibum had come for him, before realizing that it was his mother. She must have gotten home from the firm early. Without much forethought, Taemin jumped from his desk and hurried to the top of the steps, stopping breathlessly to see his mother shrugging off her blazer and placing her bag down on the wooden floor. 

 

She looked up in surprise at his appearance. “Hey, kid, what’s wrong?” 

 

Taemin blinked, coming back to himself. “Ah, n-nothing, I was just surprised to see you home is all…”

 

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion before sighing. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t break anything up there, you hear me?” And in her head.  _ “Something’s wrong…” _

 

He nodded meekly in response and ignored the surprise that his lack of response earned him. Instead, he headed down the stairs and trailed behind his mother as she banged around in the kitchen for something that would resemble dinner for the two of them. 

 

“So, what’s on your mind?” She carefully kept her eyes trained on the cabinets as she spoke to him, though her thoughts were rapidly running through a list of possible illnesses. 

 

He shrugged and leaned against the counter. “Nothing much…”

 

She turned her face just enough that he could see the disbelief on her face. “Yeah, okay.”

 

He frowned. “No, really. I’m fine. I’m just tired.” How could he even begin to talk to her about what he had discovered that day?

 

_ “It’s all of those energy drinks…”  _ She turned around, hands firmly on hips. “It’s all of those energy drinks, you know…”

 

He didn’t bother responding. The admission that he was, in fact, tired seemed to suck all of the energy out of his body in one fell swoop. He felt exhausted. Bone tired, even. Betrayed, too. He missed Kibum. It had only been one day since they had been kissing, but damn it, Taemin missed him. 

 

And now, tired as he was, he wanted his mother to tuck him into her arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay. She used to do that, without prompting. When had that changed? Was it when Taemin had that growth spurt three summers ago? Was it when his father had stormed from the house, promising that Taemin was no son of his? When had he gotten so good at not needing anyone?

 

His mother’s mind was curiously blank, and she didn’t ask him anymore questions. Instead, she gently shut the cupboards and moved closer to wrap her arms around him, stroking his back with her cool fingers like he was a small child. 

 

“Why don’t we just order a pizza and watch some movies? Would you like that?” Her voice was quiet, like she was talking to a cornered animal. 

 

He nodded, cold nose pressed against her collarbone. “Yeah, I would like that, Mom.” 

 

He still felt tired and he still felt fear, but for a little while, he pushed them aside with the other feelings that he didn’t want to deal with. He knew that he would have to confront them again, tomorrow, but for a little while, he wanted to spend some time as a sixteen year old boy.

 

\---

 

He woke with a clear head and a plan. He had decided sometime in the middle of the night, that yesterday had been an overreaction, that Kibum was just pissed off, and that there was no way that he would resort to killing Taemin. He decided that he would be extra nice to Kibum today and see if that could manage to change around those rather scary thoughts. 

 

It took quite a bit of time for him to drag himself from his bed. He might have managed to come up with some plan of action in his head, but that didn’t mean that his body was anymore willing to put itself in potential danger. His hands were shaking ever so slightly as he carefully pulled his comforter away and his muscles were sore like he had endured extensive exercise the day before. 

 

The shower that he took was ice cold and it managed to numb him enough that the shaking in his hands stilled momentarily. He was left wide awake in the aftermath and he was grateful for the clarity that this wakefulness provided him with. 

 

Jonghyun was going to be picking him up for school that day, and Taemin had to be prepared to set aside what he knew momentarily so as not to make the other boy aware of his distress. He didn’t want Jonghyun, or really any of his friends, getting involved in whatever happened between Kibum and him. 

 

Before long, he was buckled into Jonghyun’s car and inhaling the Japanese cherry blossom scent that permeated the air of the car. It calmed him ever so slightly. Enough that when Jonghyun greeted him and asked him to play some music, Taemin didn’t hesitate. 

 

_ “Something seems off…”  _ Jonghyun wrinkled his nose cutely in puzzlement. Taemin’s had been watching him intently from the corner of his eyes, so he was glad that he hadn’t missed the gesture. “Everything okay, Tae?” 

 

Taemin smiled easily. Everything was okay when he was with Jonghyun. Jonghyun gave him the strength to endure anything. “Yeah, I’m great!” 

 

Jonghyun hummed lightly before turning slightly to glance at Taemin’s face as they approached a stop light. “You seem a little quiet, is all.” He ran a hand through his thick hair, pink dye lightened slightly by age. 

 

Taemin watched that hand like a hawk. He wondered what it felt like. If it would be as fine as fairy floss. “I’m struck silent by your beauty.” Wow, okay. That was lame. 

 

Fortunately, Jonghyun barked out a laugh at his answer, flower petal lips curling into a smile. “You’re such a dork.” Taemin could just make out the happy buzz of his thoughts over the music playing softly in the background. 

 

Taemin wished that the route to school had been shorter, but before long, they pulling into the school parking lot and into Jonghyun’s designated spot. The one right next to Jinki’s. He had been offered a spot closer to the school because he was in jazz band and had heavy instruments to cart into the building, but Jonghyun had decided to stick with Jinki as his parking lot neighbor. Taemin figured it was because he knew that Jinki’s automatic doors wouldn’t dig his car when they opened. 

 

Unfortunately, Jinki’s minivan pulled up just as soon as Jonghyun had parked, cutting the time that they had had alone short. Taemin grumbled as Jonghyun hurried over to the driver’s side of Jinki’s van to greet the other boy, but he couldn’t ignore the happy flush on Jonghyun’s face. He couldn’t begrudge Jonghyun’s happiness, even if Taemin hadn’t been its origin. 

 

Jinki poked his head around his van to meet Taemin’s eyes.  _ “He looks tired,” _ Jinki noted, watching him closely. “Hey, buddy. What’s up?” 

 

Taemin hadn’t  _ felt _ tired, but the attention from both Jinki and Jonghyun was making him feel so. “The sky.” He deadpanned with a shit-eating grin. “Is Kibum here, yet?”

 

_ “Did Kibum tell me when he was coming…?”  _ Jinki wondered, recalling bits and pieces of a conversation from last night. “I think he told me he was coming early. He might be in the classroom, already.” 

 

Taemin nodded. “I’m going to go ahead, then.” He waved and turned to head into the school building. 

 

He felt his fear and adrenaline returning, but he knew that he had to face Kibum. He hoped desperately that yesterday had just been a fluke and that Kibum had calmed down. Had changed his mind. 

 

Taemin stepped hesitantly down the hall, back slouched under his backpack and thumbs tucked under the straps. He managed to waste as much time as possible on the way. There was a ball of paper that needed to be thrown away. He needed to tie his shoelaces. He couldn’t, in good conscious, leave that poster on the wall now that someone had drawn a dick on it. But eventually, he couldn’t put it off, anymore, and he was standing in the doorway of his and Kibum’s first period class. 

 

There were few students in the classroom this early, most of the milling around in the halls still or scarfing down a fast food breakfast in the parking lot. In total, there were only a handful sitting in their desks, fiddling with their phones or flipping through the reading with a panicked look on their faces. Kibum was doing neither of these things, cheek cradled lazily by the palm of a hand. His eyes were trained on the gray sky outside, thoughts a dull buzz that followed no particular path. 

 

Taemin took a deep breath to steady himself and promised himself that he would stay true to what he said he was going to do, and moved forward like a newborn colt. He carefully avoided tripping over the haphazard patchwork of desks and chairs and eventually made it to the desk right next to Kibum, quietly dropping his backpack to the ground and seating himself. 

 

Kibum must not have heard him because he did not acknowledge his presence and his thoughts did not shift to make room for Taemin. 

 

Taemin tucked his hands into his long sleeves, thumbs pulling at the seams nervously. “H-Hey, Bummie. What’s up?”

 

_ “So now he wants to talk to me.”  _ Kibum did not acknowledge him verbally and Taemin winced at his thoughts, glad that the boy couldn’t see him. 

 

It was quiet for a beat or two as Taemin waited to make sure that Kibum wasn’t going to answer him before he hesitantly began, again. “Nice weather we’re having?”

 

Kibum turned his face even further away from him, still silent.  _ “Why is he even bothering to pretend nothing happened?” _

 

Okay, so that strategy wasn’t going to work. 

 

“Look, Kibum, I’m didn’t mean for any of that to happen.” He paused to take a deep breath, the lump in his throat thick and overpowering. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you…”

 

Kibum scoffed and finally turned to look at him. The bruises on his face were finally beginning to yellow, the concealer that Taemin knew was on his face doing more work to cover the discoloration. “You certainly didn’t seem to mind when my dick was up your ass.”    
  


Ah, fuck. There might have only been a few people in the classroom, but Kibum had said that loudly enough for people to look up. Loudly enough for rumors to travel. He glanced around the room anxiously to see if any of the people had were looking at him. If there was another who seemed to be paying attention, now, where they hadn’t been before. 

 

_ “Case in point.” _ The thought was smug. “Look,” Kibum began, brows furrowed in frustration and voice heavy with defeat. “I won’t tell any of the others about this, but I really need you to leave me alone.” And with that, he turned his face away and went back to staring out the window.

 

All of the air in his lungs seemed to vacate all at once into a quiet  _ oh _ . His chest hurt. Ached, even. He lifted a hand to rub at the spot, hoping to dispel some of the ache, but it seemed to be much deeper than a surface hurt. Kibum’s words stung. Stung in an unexpected way. He wished Kibum would turn his face back to look at him. Wished that he could go back in time to maybe rephrase what he had meant to be an apology. But he hadn’t said sorry, hadn’t he? Was that where he had messed up? He wanted a redo, but that wasn’t the superpower he had, was it? 

 

No, that wasn’t his superpower. The only power he had was to royally fuck up in new and exciting ways.

 

He neatly folded his arms on his desk and put his head down. He needed to breathe through this pain. That was what his doctor had told him to do when he had fallen out of a tree and broken his leg when he was eight.  _ Breathe _ , his doctor had told him.  _ Breathe and the pain will pass eventually.  _

 

But while the breathing cleared his head of the initial, irrational sting of Kibum’s harsh words, it brought with it a new, sinking feeling in his chest. It was in the few brief moments of clarity that he had found that Taemin realized that he had always been the one to decide how their relationship would go. He had always been the one calling the shots. And so this hand shaking, cold sweat on the back of his neck feeling was what it felt like to watch Kibum make a decision for himself. What it felt like to be told to go away when Taemin had always been the one to say that. 

 

Apparently, Taemin had gotten too used to turning his back on Kibum. 

 

And then, like a feather caught in a breeze, it came to him. It came to him with his head on his desk and it came to him without warning or preamble. Tickled his ears as if Kibum had actually whispered it to him, almost as if there were a puff of hot breath following it. 

 

_ “I’m going to kill him…” _

 

\---

 

He went through the rest of his day stiffly and with enough careful detachment that he somehow managed to bear the mental assault of Kibum’s careful consideration of him and subsequent plotting. His heart felt heavy. So impossibly heavy. He was surprised it didn’t drop right out of his chest and through the hard tile floor.  _ Breathe _ he told himself, but breathing only led to hyperventilation and that led to acid forcing its way up his throat, so he resorted to holding his breath for as long as he could, only pulling in more air when his eyes began to water and his head felt lighter. 

 

It was only when Jinki’s voice disrupted the static in his mind that he managed to focus on something other than Kibum’s voice ( _ I’m going to kill him _ Kibum whispered over and over in his head) for the first time since that morning. 

 

“What was that?” And it was like Taemin was surfacing from underwater. 

 

_ “He’s been off all day.”  _ Jinki thought to himself. “I was telling you that you’re coming over for dinner. Mrs. Hae should be over in an hour or so when she gets off of work.” 

 

Taemin nodded. “Ah, okay.” 

 

Jinki nodded and pulled his minivan out of its parking spot, the silence in the car nearly palpable. “Are you okay?”

 

Taemin chuckled. He was the furthest thing from okay. But maybe he could tell Jinki. Jinki had known him since he was a baby. He could trust Jinki. Depend on him, if only for a little while. “Hyung, what would you do if I could tell you that I can read minds?”

 

_ “Why can’t he ever be serious?”  _ Jinki smiled forgivingly at him, eyes soft. “I would wonder why you didn’t do better in physics.” 

 

Taemin scoffed. “Because I’m a good samaritan, my dude.” He didn’t answer Jinki’s thoughts because he wasn’t sure if he wanted Jinki to know for certain about his abilities or not. He knew he could trust Jinki, but his burden was heavy and he didn’t want it to grow heavier with Jinki’s confusion. 

 

Jinki chuckled. “So your sudden ability to read minds is what has you all bent out of shapes?” His voice was thick with sarcasm, but it was close enough to the truth that Taemin felt lighter at even a sarcastic acknowledgment.  _ “I guess I’ll just roll with this. Maybe he’ll tell me what’s actually bothering him.”  _

 

“Yeah, and what would you do if I told you that I might have read Kibum’s mind and I might have found out that he wants to kill me?” And there it was. His breath escaped him in a single, relieved huff. 

 

_ “That doesn’t make sense…”  _ They pulled into Jinki’s driveway, but instead of getting out of the car, Jinki turned the ignition off and turned to look Taemin in the eye. “Taemin, that doesn’t make sense. Everyone knows that Kibum loves you.” 

 

Taemin stared with wide eyes. Everyone? “What do you mean?”

 

_ “How can he not know…?” _ Jinki blinked, brows furrowed. “What do  _ you _ mean? Kibum has been in love with you since sixth grade.” 

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Taemin chuckled. It was pretty fucked up for Jinki to be joking about something like this. Kibum didn’t deserve that. 

 

_“You’ve got to be…”_ Jinki’s hands clenched tightly around the arm rests and he leaned closer to Taemin. “Taemin, Kibum has been _in love_ _with you_ since _sixth grade_. Everyone knows that.” 

 

Taemin threw himself back against his door, eyes wide in shock. “‘ _ Everyone _ ?’  _ I  _ didn’t know that!” Jinki’s thoughts were full of pity and it made Taemin feel sick. He was going to throw up. If Jinki kept looking at him like that, he was going to throw up. “That’s so fucked up of you, Jinki.” 

 

Jinki studied his face carefully.  _ “Did something happen? Is this why Kibum has been so weird all day?” _ Taemin couldn’t stand the way Jinki watched him. Like he was on display. A puzzle to crack. He regretted even saying anything. He wanted Jinki to go back to cracking jokes and being silly. He wanted Kibum to go back to...

 

To loving him, he supposed, if that’s what the old Kibum had meant. 

 

Jinki sighed. “You can be such an asshole sometimes, Taemin. You know that? You just don’t  _ listen _ to people.”

 

Taemin unbuckled his seatbelt and shakily got out of the car. “Y-Yeah...I think I’m...Figuring that out…” 

 

He shrugged his backpack on and stumbled to the door, not bothering to knock before going in. Jinki was quick on his trail, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I didn’t mean to say anything to hurt your feelings…” and in his mind  _ “I hope I didn’t make things worse…” _

 

Hew  _ had _ , in fact, made Taemin feel worse, but it was something Taemin needed to hear. Knowing that Kibum was  _ in love _ with him and that  _ everyone _ knew that changed things. It changed things a lot. Fortunately, he didn’t have much time to think about what had just happened before Jinki’s mom bustled out of the kitchen with a plate of dried seaweed snacks. Taemin felt immense relief at the sight of her, glad to be able to compartmentalize his feelings for later analysis. Or never analysis. Whichever one came first. 

 

“How are you Mrs. Suji?” Taemin asked, voice small in the wake of his emotional turmoil. 

 

_ “He needs a haircut…” _ Mrs. Lee thought as she analyzed him appearance and Taemin wanted to groan in exasperation. Did all of their parents share some sort of mental network? “Baby! Come here and let me see you!” Mrs. Lee pulled him closer and plucked at some lint on his t-shirt. “How is school going? Are you keeping your grades up?”

 

Taemin knew that Mrs. Lee had much higher standards of achievement than his own mother, so he nodded. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. “Yes, Ma’am.” 

 

_ “Ma’am? When did that start happening?”  _ She raised a brow at him. “Since when do you call me ‘ma’am’? Its Suji or Imo, mister!” Then, Mrs. Lee turned her attention to Jinki and shot off in rapid fire Korean, ordering him into the kitchen to help her start bringing plates out. 

 

Taemin winced at the unfamiliar sound of Korean. Unlike Mrs. Lee, Taemin’s mother had been born in America and while his mother could speak Korean perfectly well, she had never really pushed for Taemin to learn it like Mrs. Lee had pushed Jinki. He felt embarrassed when he had to ask her to speak English for him when everyone else was speaking Korean. He was grateful for the language barrier today, however, because it allowed him to sneak off to the living room without anyone paying much attention to him. He needed to be alone for a little bit and the thoughts shifting to Korean allowed him to tune them out even more. 

 

He slumped down on the floral print couch in the living room. It was lumpy and made him sink lower to the ground than he found particularly comfortable, but it was familiar and smelled like Mrs. Lee’s vanilla candles. It was quiet for a moment. Enough for Taemin to get in one deep breath. Two. 

 

And then, he collapsed in on himself. 

 

His eyes burned and he stubbornly kept them dry through sheer force of will alone. Holy fuck. Kibum was  _ in love  _ with him? Kibum had slept with him all the while in love with Taemin and hadn’t  _ told  _ him? And now, Taemin had fucked up. Had really fucked up. Because he didn’t  _ listen _ . Damn it, Taemin didn’t know how to  _ listen _ . 

 

His fingers found their way to his hair and was tugging harshly without him really being aware of it. He had to fix this. He had to  _ fix  _ this. What was the point of having superpowers if it just made his life  _ worse _ ?

 

_ I’m going to kill him…  _

 

That is what Kibum’s mind had whispered to him. That was the truth that Taemin was being forced to confront. 

 

Taemin had done that. 

 

Taemin had pushed Kibum there. 

 

Kibum was going to kill him. 

 

Kibum was going to  _ kill _ him. 

 

And it was his fault.

 

He felt like he was slipping away. And he wasn’t sure how to deal with it, but he started by turning his face into the old pillows on Mrs. Lee’s couch and forcing white hot tears away, a painful cry clawing its way up his throat only to be buried under a heavy tongue. He could be strong for once. He would fix this mess. 

 

Somehow. 

 

\---

 

Somehow, without even knowing it, Taemin had managed to fall asleep on the couch with his head buried under a pillow. It was only when he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder that he jerked awake, cotton-mouthed and hazy. 

 

“Whozzat?” He mumbled grumpily, trying to force his eyes to focus on the person sitting on the edge of the couch. 

 

_ “He’s still my baby…”  _ His mother’s voice drifted to him, a hint of amusement in her thoughts. “C’mon, kid. Time to get up. Mrs. Suji has got dinner ready.”   
  


He nodded and forced himself to sit up, grumbling as he straightened out his shirt and fished his stray sock from the crack of the couch which he had managed to kick off in his sleep. His mother helped, straightening his hair and wiping at the drool in the corner of his mouth. 

 

“Ew, Mom.” Taemin complained, trying to turn his face away so that his mother couldn’t wipe his mouth anymore. 

 

His mother blinked at him before grinning mockingly. “Who do you think changed your diapers, you brat? Now come here. Let mommy see you.” She turned her fingers so they were wiggling towards him like some cheesy dracula cartoon.  _ “I just want to hold on to you for a while longer…” _

 

Her thoughts sobered him and halted his movements. He blinked at her, ignoring the wiggly fingers that were still creeping towards him. Since when did his mother have crow’s feet? Since when did she look so  _ old _ . Not that he would tell  _ her _ that, but still. He didn’t remember her being this worn out. 

 

When he didn’t stop her from tickling the back of his neck with her cool fingers, she blinked.  _ “What’s wrong?” _ and then, out loud, “Taemin, what’s wrong?” 

 

She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead in concern.  _ “He doesn’t have a fever…” _

 

He shrugged and smiled shakily. “I just miss you sometimes, is all.” That hadn’t really been what he had meant to say, but now that it had been said, he was glad. It was true, after all. After the divorce, he had seemed to see less and less of his mother as he grew older. They used to talk for hours, just the two of them. What happened?   
  


_ “Things were easier when he still had two parents…”  _ She sighed. “I know you do. I miss you too, baby...Things will start to settle down at work soon, you’ll see. Just trust me, okay?” She reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “And, you need a haircut. Really, this bowcut that you have going on here is really not working for you.” Then, she pinched his cheek with her cool fingers and was gone. 

 

Taemin winced, rubbing his cheek and grumbling. That was what he got for talking about his feelings with his mom. A sore face and a wounded ego. He sighed and hauled himself off the couch, following after his mother. He was sure he could get his revenge, somehow. Maybe he would eat all of her shitty low fat yogurt while she was at work. That would show her. 

 

_ “He’s finally awake…”  _ Mrs. Lee looked up from where she was placing a plate on the table when Taemin walked into the room. “Well, look who decided to show up!”    
  


Taemin flushed and twiddled his thumbs. “Sorry, Imo.” 

 

She merely grinned in response, swatting his butt as she walked by to retrieve her wineglass from the kitchen counter where she had left it. “Why don’t you go get Jinki and then we can eat?” Then, she turned to his mother. “Hae, do you want a glass of wine?”

 

_ “Even one glass can lead to a bottle with Suji…”  _ His mother glanced around the room for back up, but Taemin merely shrugged. Who was he to stand in the way. “A-Ah, I don’t know, Unnie. I have to work tomorrow…”

 

Mrs. Lee pouted and nudged Taemin’s mother with her elbow. “Oh, come on. Live a little!” And then in her head  _ “or a lot…” _

 

“Ah, fuck it!” His mother grinned before flushing and turning to Taemin. “Do not repeat that word, you hear me?” 

 

Taemin nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” 

 

With that, he turned and headed upstairs to retrieve Jinki. Just as he was about to knock on Jinki’s door, however, he heard Jinki’s voice. He was talking to someone. And Taemin was nothing if not nosy, so he stilled in the hallway, careful to avoid settling his weight in such a way as to make the floorboards creak. Carefully, he pressed his ear against the door, hoping to discover who Jinki was talking to. Jinki didn’t play MMORPGs like Taemin did, or really any sort of multiplayer, so he couldn’t be gaming with anyone. And Jinki wasn’t one to Skype when a text message was available. He hated talking on the phone. 

 

“So two weeks from today, then?” Jinki asked, voice even toned and neutral. However, his thoughts were less so.  _ “I can’t believe this is really going to happen…” _

 

Taemin blinked. What could be going on? What was going to happen? He pressed his ear even closer to the door, ignoring the possibility of splinters. Really, splinters would be worth it if it meant that he got some of the juicy details that Jinki had obviously been keeping from the rest of their friend group. 

 

He couldn’t make out the voice of the other person, so he assumed that Jinki was using headphones. Bummer. 

 

A moment later, he was jarred from his thoughts by Jinki’s response. “Yeah, I’ll let him know. Once we get the tickets, it should be a straight shot from there.”

 

Tickets? What did Jinki need tickets for? Taemin didn’t get the chance to find out because in the next moment, Jinki was informing the other person that he needed to go eat dinner and Taemin took that as his que to knock on the door he had been pressed against. 

 

“Come in!” Jinki announced. 

 

Taemin burst through the door before the words were out of his mouth, eyes trained in the direction of Jinki’s computer screen to try and figure out who Jinki had been speaking to before. However, instead of seeing a Skype window, Taemin instead caught sight of an Expedia page open with a list of available plane tickets. He blinked in confusion. Before he could read any sort of destination, Jinki rushed to exit out of the tab. 

 

Taemin rose his brow in confusion. “What do you need a plane ticket for, Jinks?” 

 

_ “It’s better this way. This is the best I can do for him…”  _ Jinki sighed heavily, like there was a great burden on his shoulders. “Oh, I was just looking for fun. I’ve always wanted to travel, you know?”    
  


Taemin narrowed his eyes in suspicion. It didn’t seem like the tickets were for Jinki, at all. What was he up to? Though it seemed like lately, all of his friends were plotting something in their heads. He sighed. 

 

“If you say so…” He shrugged. “Anyway, your mom says dinner is ready.” 

 

_ “Good thing he dropped it. This needs to stay quiet, for the time being…”  _ Jinki grinned and nodded. “Awesome, possum!” 

 

Taemin carefully filed that thought away for later reference. What was going on with Jinki that he didn’t want anyone to know? Who was he buying a plane ticket for? He made sure that his suspicion wasn’t obvious on his face with he firmly informed Jinki that, “I think you are the lamest person I know, Hyung.” 

 

\---

 

The rest of the week seemed to crawl by with little change. Jinki hadn’t thought about the plane tickets again, Taemin managed to scrape by in his classes with little work required on his part thanks to his powers, and Kibum continued to imagine Taemin’s death. Honestly, it was becoming such a regular part of his daily routine, that he hardly even paid the thoughts any attention. Besides, they were only ever the same  _ “I’m going to kill him…” _ thought over and over, only broken up by the occasional thought that was thankfully focused on something  _ else _ . It was never anything concrete or anything that led Taemin to believe that Kibum was actually going to go through with it, so he decided for the sake of his own sanity to just be on his best behavior around Kibum and hope for the best.

 

It was Friday afternoon and Taemin had just managed to drag his tired corpse into the house when he received a message from Minho, phone buzzing in his pocket. 

 

_ Brokage: Hey. we’re having a movie night at your place tonight _

 

Taemin blinked. Since when had that been decided? He quickly typed out a response. He was exhausted and really didn’t feel up to a movie night. Besides, a movie night meant spending time with Kibum outside of a monitored setting which was strictly against Taemin’s sense of self preservation. 

 

_ The Hash-Slinging Slasher: wtf since whn?? _

_ The Hash-Slinging Slasher: boi i dnt evn hav movies _

The slumped down on his couch in the livingroom tiredly. A moment later, Minho responded. 

 

_ Brokage: i already asked your mom and she said yes _

_ Brokage: also, i’ll just bring my fire stick _

_ Brokage: dont be a toe, dude _

 

Well, if he was expected to do little to no work, then he supposed that it was fine. Besides, the others would be there to ensure that Kibum didn’t start murder-slashing, right there. 

 

_ The Hash-Slinging Slasher: fine bt we’re watching a scry mvoie _

 

Nodding to himself, he glanced around the room. There was a basket of laundry that needed to be folded sitting on the coffee table and he was sure the sink was full of dishes, but if his mother had agreed to a movie night, then he figured that meant she was agreeing with the house as is. He whipped out his phone to text his mother. 

 

_ Tae: ma, can we order pizza tonight? Stuffed crust? _

 

She responded a moment later. She must have been close to finishing work for the day if he got a response so quickly. 

 

_ Mommy: yeah, that’s fine. Go ahead and order it when you want. There’s money in the jar.  _

 

Taemin grinned and headed to the kitchen, standing on his tip toes to urge the jar from the top of the fridge. It had once been something of a swear jar. Then, a jar for money to donate to the church. Then, a vacation fund. Now, it was just a random jar that his mother put cash in occasionally for when Taemin wanted pizza. Most of the time, thinking about his parent’s divorce made him incredibly sad, but occasionally, some good came out of it. Like Taemin’s mother forgetting to not put money in the jar that no longer served a purpose. 

 

He pocketed a few bills and pulled out his phone to call the only pizza place in town. A little local pizza place that also served subs. There wasn’t much that they served that was good, but they certainly knew how to do stuffed crust pepperoni pizza, so that was good enough for Taemin. He went ahead and ordered some pizzas, figuring that the others would be over soon, and if the pizza was cold by the time they showed up, then that was their fault for being late to the party Taemin didn’t want to have. 

 

Once that was done, he went ahead and started placing the dirty dishes in the sink in the dishwasher, figuring that he would repay his mother in child labor for the pizza. Besides, it would make her happy, and Taemin aimed to please. 

 

Just as he was putting the last plate in the dishwasher, the doorbell rang. He quickly dried his hands and moved to answer the door, grinning when he came face to face (or really, face to chest, the tall bastard) with Minho. 

 

“What’s up nerd?” Minho grinned, pushing Taemin aside to make his way to the living room, Fire Stick under his arm. 

 

Taemin frowned and closed the door after him. “You think just because you play sports that you’re less of a doofus, but newsflash, you’re a nerd, too.” 

 

_ “He needs to put this laundry away.”  _ Minho plucked at a t-shirt on the top of the laundry basket. “Don’t you think you should put this laundry away before your mom gets home?” 

 

Taemin shrugged and flopped onto the couch next to him. “Mom doesn’t like me touching her clothes. Apparently I fold like a caveman.” 

 

Minho nodded. “That seems fair.” He pulled out his phone, thumbs moving at rapid pace to type out a text before he pocketed it, once more. “Jinki will be pulling up with the others in a second.” 

 

Taemin nodded in response and leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I ordered some pizzas. Pepperoni stuffed crust.”

 

_ “Pepperoni? What the fuck?”  _ Minho groaned. “Pepperoni, really?”

 

“What the fuck, you come into my home and disrespect me.” Taemin sniffed. He was well aware that Minho didn’t care for pepperonis, but he could just pick them off for all he cared. 

 

Minho scoffed and gestured around the room with a sweeping arm. “Ah, yes, the Lee Estate, paid for with Taemin’s pocket lint, alone.” 

 

“Well excuse the fuck out of me, we don’t all have two houses.” Taemin grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He froze once the words were out of his mouth. He knew that Minho had been joking with him, he hadn’t meant to bring anything heavy into the discussion. 

 

_ “Oops…” _ Minho blinked, arms flopping back down to his side as though all the air had left him. “Yeah, well, Mom lives in an apartment, so that doesn’t count.”

 

Taemin sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He always had to put his foot in his mouth. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” 

 

Unlike Minho, Taemin had no relationship to speak of with his father. After all, Taemin had been the reason why his parents had split, in the first place. One mention of Taemin liking to kiss boys and his parents were going for each other’s throats. His mother had ordered him upstairs, away from all the screaming, but Taemin had been rooted in place. Watching in morbid fascination as his father tore their family photo from the mantle and thrown it at the wall before storming into the other room to start packing his bags under his soon-to-be-ex wife’s orders. If he looked hard enough, he could still see the black scuff marks that the frame had left. His mother had painted the living room a bright yellow, but Taemin had a feeling that he would always see those scuff marks, would be able to find them with his eyes closed, regardless of the color of the walls. 

 

Things had been hard since then. His mother worked more often than she didn’t. And Taemin had drawn in on himself. Learned how to not deal with things he didn’t want to. 

 

Minho’s thoughts were apologetic, but Taemin shrugged him off, grinning. “Hey, who the fuck wants to deal with mother’s day  _ and  _ father’s day? I’m broke as shit half of the time.”

 

Minho seemed ready to call him out on the fake laughter that filled the room, but a knock on the door interrupted him. Taemin was thankful. He had never been really good at addressing his feelings, and he wasn’t keen to start now. He quickly moved from the couch to open the door, ushering Jinki, Jonghyun, and Kibum in. He even somehow managed to not blink at the cold stare that Kibum directed his way. 

 

They didn’t hesitate to sprawl across the living room, already familiar enough with Taemin’s house that they didn’t wait for an invitation. Taemin moved to stand before the tv, hands on his hips. 

 

“Pizza should be here in a few minutes. Until then, I move to nominate a scary movie.” There was no room for debate in his voice. 

 

Minutes later, when they finally had steaming pizza boxes stacked on the coffee table, it was dark in Taemin’s living room, their faces only illuminated by the glow of the massive flat screen that his mother had gotten in the divorce. The room smelled heavily of over buttered popcorn and greasy pizza and Taemin thought that he must have died and gone to heaven because, really, what a heavenly smell. His mother would have a fit when she got home from work because there was nary a scented candle in sight, but if Taemin could deal with the overpowering stench of her Marc Jacobs perfume leaving a scented trail wherever she walked, then she could deal with Taemin’s stink. 

 

They had decided on a new hack and slash movie for the night, ignoring Kibum and Jonghyun’s loud protests. Besides, it was Taemin’s house and Taemin’s house was not a democracy. However, a third of the way into the movie, Taemin realized how big of a mistake he had truly made. 

 

_ “The killer is going to be right there…” _

 

_ “Ah, shit..fuck...shit…fuck...bitch...if this bitch doesn’t run….Girl! Go!” _

 

_ “The effects are really well done…” _

 

_ “...cut the tendons in his ankles so he can’t run…” _

 

Wait, what the fuck? 

 

Taemin turned his attention to Kibum’s cool expression, not at all what he expected to see on his friend’s face. Usually, Kibum was shrieking up a storm which made watching horror movies with him that much more enjoyable. This night, however, Kibum was just staring at the screen and analyzing the killer’s choices in cool calculation.

 

He must have felt Taemin’s stare because he flicked his eyes over to Taemin and raised a brow in question. Not one to be questioned, Taemin simply huffed and shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth. 

 

If Kibum wanted to analyze murder techniques, there was nothing that Taemin could do to stop him, but it didn’t prevent the cool shiver from rocketing down his spine. Was Kibum planning on using these techniques on  _ him _ ? Taemin nearly scoffed at the thought. Kibum didn’t even  _ have  _ access to a chainsaw. However, when Taemin dared to glance over at him, once more, the expression he was was thoughtful. 

 

Taemin fought to swallow around a suddenly dry mouth. 

 

Suddenly, the horror movie wasn’t so much fun, anymore. Instead, Taemin felt cool sweat on the back of his neck and quivering in his fingertips. His heart was beating sticky and loud in his chest and he wondered if anyone else was suddenly warm. He pulled the collar of his tshirt away from his neck long enough to blow a gust of air on his naked chest, hoping that it would cool him down, slightly. 

 

He glanced around the room helplessly. Someone  _ had _ to be witnessing this. There was no way that Taemin was the only one aware that Kibum was coldly thinking about the best way to incapacitate a victim. But a quick look around reminded Taemin that he was, in fact, the only one who knew. He was the only one who could read minds. He was the only one who had someone earned this freakish superpower that seemed to only do more work in fucking up his life as time went on. 

 

He fought back the hysterical laughter that was putting serious effort to crawl up his throat. He wondered, briefly, if any of this could have been prevented. He wondered what his life could have been like if he hadn’t allowed himself to have guilt-driven sex with Kibum, or if he hadn’t been so desperate to see the other boy happy about  _ something _ again. What would have happened if  he hadn’t been so hopelessly in love with Jonghyun that he called it all off in a fit of panic?

 

He felt tears prickling the back of his eyes and he took one, long shuddering breath. He was so fucked. His throat felt thick and his mouth still felt dry and his hands were still quivering and Kibum was  _ still  _ thinking about ankle tendons. 

 

_ “I wonder if a knife would slice them cleanly…”  _ Kibum wondered, eyes trained on the television.  _ “Would I need to use something sharper?” _

 

Taemin wanted to scream. Jonghyun yelped as the killer in the movie burst through a closet door, but Taemin wanted to throttle him at the noise because the real killer was  _ sitting right next to him _ . 

 

He wanted to flinch away from Kibum, wanted to put as much distance between him and his would-be killer as possible. But instead, fear kept him rooted to his spot. 

 

He plucked a piece of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table and tried to ignored how the crunch resonated with the breaking of a bone in the movie. 


	6. Chapter 6

Taemin was thoroughly convinced that he was currently in some sort of vaguely familiar alternate universe. The scene was a familiar one: the chaos of the lunch room at midday. There were styrofoam lunch trays scattered across tables. His own was currently drowning in a sad attempt at beef stroganoff. Jinki was eating celery. Jonghyun was nibbling on a granola bar. Minho was picking Cheetos out of his large bag with chopsticks. And Kibum wasn’t eating anything, at all. Overall, it was a familiar image. Completely normal. One hundred percent average. If it weren’t for the way that Kibum was staring at him. 

 

He felt a lump swell in his throat at the cold stare directed his way. Taemin had always responded poorly to such attention and today, he was doing no better. He wasn’t sure, really, what he was meant to say to Kibum. He thought about it. Saying something. But somehow, the ring of “ _ hey buddy, I can read your mind and I know that you’re planning on murdering me, but maybe...don’t?” _ didn’t really have much ring to it. Thus, Taemin was glued to his seat and the lump in his throat only managed to increase in size as lunch progressed. He wondered if, maybe, he could cough it out if he tried hard enough. 

 

_ “I’ll need a shovel. Some zip ties. An energy drink?…I’ll want him aware of what is happening. How do I keep him awake?”  _ Kibum’s face was still blank but the lack of emotion only made Taemin shiver. 

 

“H-hey, Bummie. You’ve seemed a little down lately. Is everything okay?” It was the first thing that came to mind. He had to say  _ something _ . Had to do  _ something _ . He couldn’t just sit there and passively listen to this. 

 

_ “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”  _ His thoughts lacked any hesitance, though he didn’t answer Taemin aloud immediately. 

 

Instead he stared at him. Looked  _ through _ him, even, like Taemin was a fence post splattered in wet paint, a blade of grass trying his best to break an inch. And it was the growing familiarity that Taemin was beginning to have with this very look being directed his way that made Taemin feel even worse. He was aware that Kibum hadn’t put a date on his murder and it was only since last night’s movie night that Taemin had even become aware of any sort of active plans, but all the same, the tiny hairs on the back of Taemin’s neck were standing at attention. 

 

Without answering, Kibum abruptly stood from the table, untouched lunch in hand, and left without a word. 

 

The other three glanced his way curiously, minds abuzz with the origin of Kibum’s ire and what Taemin had managed to do in the fifteen minutes they had been sitting there to send Kibum off in a huff. 

 

Taemin ducked his head under the weight of their stares, drawing his phone out of his pocket to fiddle with it uselessly. His eyes caught the Pokemon Plus wristband that he had yet to really return. It had been a gift, so Taemin didn’t think much about giving it back. Should he? Is that what people did when they stopped fucking the person they had been fucking and said fuck-ee was plotting murder in retaliation? Was this yet another failure to add to the looming pile that Taemin had made all on his own?

 

And, ah, there it was. Crippling anxiety. He was about three seconds away from a total mental breakdown. Breakdown as in, he could feel cool sweat prickling his forehead and a nest of wasps buzzing in his head he had managed to keep a lid on everything up until this point, but he was quickly reaching the capacity of what even he could carefully ignore. And Taemin was a master of pretending that things were okay when they most certainly were not. 

 

Overall he felt like a steaming bag of shit. 

 

On fire. 

 

He managed to leave the table and head to his next class without drawing much attention to himself. He wasn’t hungry anymore, anyway. 

 

\---

 

When classes were over and Taemin could extract himself from the classroom that was really way too hot to be entirely acceptable, he met Jinki by his minivan in the parking lot. Minho and Kibum had apparently already left, judging by the empty parking spot, but Jonghyun’s car was still there right next to Jinki’s. Taemin felt a smile stretching across his lips, suddenly eager to get there faster so that he could get even a few precious moments of Jonghyun’s time. 

 

_ “This is really the only way…”  _ Jinki’s thoughts drifted closer to him, a whisper of sound among the chaos of students. However, Taemin might have missed the sound if it weren’t for the words that Jinki spoke aloud next. “We’ll tell him, soon. It’s really the only way to safely do this.” 

 

A pink blob nodded and the movement drew Taemin’s eyes to the figure leaning against Jonghyun’s car, pink hair in a disarray and oversized hoodie drawn close for warmth based on the way his shoulders were hunched over. And Taemin, being a literal garbage monster, quickly ducked behind a pickup truck so that he eavesdrop in peace. 

 

_ “I hate that it has to be this way…”  _ Jonghyun nodded. “Yeah, I agree. I hate to think that this is how we’ll say goodbye.” 

 

Jinki shrugged. There were numbers running through his head.  _ “I can’t imagine it’ll be a 1057…”  _ he sighed. “We’ll make it work, somehow. This is what’s best for him.”

 

_ “At lunch…”  _ Jonghyun suddenly recalled. “Did he seem to be acting strangely at lunch today?”

 

Jinki nodded. “He left pretty abruptly…”

 

Oh fuck, Taemin suddenly realized. They were talking about  _ Kibum _ . Oh, shit. What was Jinki  _ planning _ ? (He remembered with sudden vivid recollection that Jinki was always trying to figure out how to get Kibum away from his dad. The plane tickets. Was it all connected?)

 

What in the utter  _ fuck _ had he just listened to?

 

He edged closer to them, trying to get a better visual on his target, but was abruptly stopped when Jinki looked over and called out to him. 

 

“Hey, Taemin, are you ready to go?” And nervously in his head,  _ “I hope he didn’t hear any of that.”  _

 

He had totally heard all of that. But he couldn’t let Jinki know that he could add ‘eavesdropper’ to his staggering list of credentials, so he shuffled forward, hands shoved in his pockets. The shoelaces of one of his sneakers was untied, but he was trying to be cool so he didn’t reach down to tie it. Wait. 

 

Taemin chuckled. “Ha, my shoelace always comes untied!” He stopped where he was and crouched down, similarly to the way he had crouched behind the pickup truck, and tied his shoe. 

 

Jinki rose his eyebrow. “Why don’t you just double knot your shoelaces?” 

 

Taemin gaped at him. “Uhm, excuse you? I value my ability to remove my shoes easily.”

 

Jinki sighed. “Yeah, okay, dork.” He gestured to the minivan with his thumb. “You getting in or what?” 

 

Taemin nodded and hurried to the passenger side. Before he could open the door, however, he recalled that Jonghyun, the literal love of his life, was still standing there, and Taemin turned to say something to him. Something that he hoped would be cool enough that Jonghyun would totally fall in love with him. 

 

“Later, alligator.” 

 

Nice. 

 

_ “What a dork…”  _ Jonghyun grinned. He removed one of his hands from the middle pocket of his hoodie and curled his fingers in a tiny wave that nearly sent Taemin into heart palpitations. “In a while, crocodile.” 

 

Wow, okay. He and Jonghyun were literal  _ soulmates _ and the fact that Kibum didn’t understand that astounded him. Oh, fuck. Now, he was thinking about Kibum again and possibility-slash-certainty that he was going to be murdered by Kibum. That did all the work of wiping the smile right off of his face. He nodded solemnly to Jonghyun and gently opened the car door, sliding into his seat without another word. 

 

The ride passed in relative silence, Taemin not eager to speak and Jinki seemingly perfectly fine with it if the tone of his thoughts was any indicator. Instead, they listened to the Princess Mononoke soundtrack, and Taemin thought that the chaotic rumble of the drums was pretty reminiscent of the state of his life, currently. 

 

_ Jinki, I think Kibum is planning to murder me. I know this because I can read minds.  _

 

He practiced it over and over in his head, even turned his face to the window so that he could mouth the words. His hands were shaking, so he tucked them under his thighs. Then, he couldn’t seem to clear his throat, so he coughed a few times. Then, it was the middle of a song, and really, one does not simply  _ interrupt _ the Princess Mononoke soundtrack. Then, holy shit, they were pulling into Taemin’s driveway, and really, there were only three-point-two seconds left to say anything, and that wasn’t enough time, so Taemin just left the car and unlocked his front door without coming clean.

 

And then, he was standing in the middle of his room, heart hammering in his chest, and raw energy buzzing beneath his skin. He needed to do something. He needed to  _ do  _ something. 

 

He practically threw himself into his desk chair, fingers typing frantically. Zipties. Kibum was planning to use zipties.

 

_ How to break out of zipties yahoo answers _

 

It wasn’t much, but this much he could do. This much he was capable of. 

 

\---

 

Somehow, Taemin found ways to distract himself though there were only ever brief blinks of respite in the face of his growing unease and paranoia. He hadn’t really left his house much other than to head immediately to school and then immediately back. Hadn’t even really spent much time with any of his friends. Instead, his days were occupied with Kibum. He supposed that that’s what the older boy had wanted, after all: for Taemin’s every waking thought to be so consumed by Kibum’s presence that he could spare little room for much else. His mouth taste like vomit near constantly and his skin seemed to always itch just below the surface, body rebelling against Taemin’s desire to simply push his impending mortality far from his mind.    


Though Taemin had not managed to suss any sort of definitive date for his death and he could tell from the general track of Kibum’s thoughts that he was still in the beginning phases of his plotting, he couldn't help but feel like he was constantly running out of time. As a result, he scrambled to gather knowledge and hold it closer to himself. He had a pack of zipties opened on his desk that he practiced breaking in his spare time until the movement were mostly muscle memory, and he had watched enough self defense videos that Taemin felt pretty confident that he could at least hold Kibum off until the police managed to arrive. 

 

But it wasn’t enough. He didn’t feel safe anymore, like he was constantly being watched, like Kibum would be hiding in his closet or outside his window or downstairs. He was painfully aware that every moment he spent looking up self defense tactics and escape strategies was a moment closer to his potential death. Every moment that he had wasn’t guaranteed, and he found himself getting through his days with a mind that was constantly trying to work six steps ahead of where Kibum may be. 

 

He glanced around his room fitfully. It was impossibly cluttered, as usual, empty Amazon boxes littered across the floor and piles of folded laundry splayed haphazardly across the floor and bed. There was a stack of books balanced precariously on the edge of his desk, right next to the floppy dildo and a perfect pyramid of Monster cans built from the floor up. 

 

He sighed. Where the clutter had always been comforting and familiar to him, suddenly he was looking at his room with new eyes. The pile of clothes had been on the bed the first time he and Kibum had had sex. The Monster pyramid had been a constant complaint of Kibum’s nearly every time he came over. The pile of books reminded Taemin that tomorrow, he would be back in school, back to listening to Kibum’s thoughts. And the boxes would just serve as an obstacle to overcome if Kibum really  _ did _ attack Taemin in his room somehow. 

 

So with a deep breath and a frantically beating heart, Taemin stood and began to remove those reminders of Kibum. He methodically and carefully put his laundry away, broke down the Amazon boxes until they were neatly folded and piled in his closet, stuffed all the empty cans into a trash bag that he  retrieved from downstairs, and stacked his books on the shelf beside his desk. When he was done, he glanced around his room with satisfaction. It was cleaner than it had been in months and his mother, at the very least, would be pleased to see the carpet for the first time. 

 

He paused there. The carpet. Just the sight of it brought back vicious memories of rug-burned knees and cut-off moans. The carpet wasn’t safe. Just another reminder of how thoroughly Taemin had fucked up. There was a desperate noise working its way up his throat, but instead of letting it loose, he rushed from the bedroom and darted to the hall closet, in search of a vacuum cleaner. His breaths were escaping parted lips in harsh puffs of air, chest working frantically to accommodate Taemin’s sudden need to inhale  _ all the time _ .

 

After the carpet came a fresh set of bedsheets in bright pink, and then when Taemin recalled that pink was Kibum’s favorite color, he switched to deep black. He used a duster to wipe away the fingerprints that Taemin was sure he could see from his desk. Taemin put the spare set of dark curtains over his window, held loosely with tape. Only then was he satisfied, glancing around his room with critical eye in order to discern how much of it still contained Kibum’s presence. 

 

It wasn’t much, but it was enough that Taemin could feel his heartbeat slowing and his breaths even. Only then did he glance down at his shaking hands and realize that he had spent the entire afternoon methodically cleaning his room and hyperventilating. He nearly laughed at how ridiculous that sounded, but he stopped when he remembered that this wasn’t the life of some disturbed sitcom character, it was  _ his _ . And that wasn’t  _ funny _ . Not even a little bit. 

 

He knew it at that point. He  _ knew _ it. But still, the knowledge hit him like a freight train. 

 

Kibum was going to kill him. 

 

Holy _ shit _ . 

 

\-----

 

When he woke the next morning, he felt positively ill, body heavy and his heart even heavier. It took enough effort from him to peel his eyes open that he eventually, he stopped bothering to try, lying there in bed and hopelessly wishing that when he eventually found the strength to open his eyes, that it would be a different world they would see. One in which he still had his best friend and maybe had never gained the ability to read minds and subsequently somehow become a worse human being than he already had been. It wasn’t meant to be, though, because when his eyes did eventually open, it was to dark curtains and pink sheets and the reminder that he still had to drag himself out of bed and attend public high school though his every breath felt like his last.

 

He blearily glanced at his phone because he was somehow, miraculously, awake before his alarm--

 

Nope. He was late. 

 

Great. 

 

With a great groan of effort, he rolled his corpse from his bed, barely stopping in time to prevent his body from freefalling over the side of his bed and crashing into the carpet, this time without a pile of laundry to cushion the impact. His head felt heavy and his body felt heavier, and really, at this point, he just wanted to stay  _ home _ . 

 

Ah, there was an idea. 

 

And that would take care of his Kibum problem. For the day, at least. 

 

He rolled over and drifted back to sleep, mind gloriously light, if only for a little bit. 

 

\---

 

Really, he hadn’t intended for a week to go by in a similar way, but it wasn’t until his mom came home from work after seven days of Taemin skipping school, with literal smoke blowing out of her nostrils, that he realized that the jig was thoroughly up. 

 

“ _ Taemin Lee _ !” She shrieked, her voice rattling the windows and making a convincing effort to summon a demon to drag Taemin straight to the pits of hell. “Get your  _ ass _ down here!” 

 

Yikes. 

 

Taemin darted up from his computer chair so quickly that it was left spinning in his wake. He peeked around the corner, eyes cautiously glancing down the stairs where his mother was standing by the front door, foot tapping and arms crossed over her chest. 

 

Her narrowed eyes shot up the stairs, centering Taemin with her gaze and really, Taemin was pretty convinced that he couldn’t, in fact, go downstairs because her glare had turned him into stone. “Yeah, I’m looking at you, buddy!”

 

Double yikes. 

 

Taemin scuttled down the stairs like the cockroach he was, head ducked and shoulders slumped. Sure, skipping school to avoid Kibum had sounded like a good idea, at the time, but now that he was staring certain death in the face, he was pretty sure that that had, in fact, been a terrible idea. 

 

“H-Hey, Mom! Nice...er...weather we’re having today!” Taemin offered with false cheerfulness, wincing afterwards at how fake that sounded. 

 

His mother glared at him, eyebrow raised. Damn. When did her eyebrows get so intimidating? “I wouldn’t know, I’ve spent the last nine hours in a dark office.” 

 

Yeah, okay, wow. This was not going well for Taemin. From the look on his mother’s face, she was not nearly close enough to being in the mood for dealing with Taemin’s bullshit. He hurried down the stairs, wincing at his mother’s increasingly tense posture. 

 

And then it hit him. 

 

_ “Am I really such an awful parent?” _

 

And that hit Taemin like a punch to the gut. Awful?  _ His _ mother? Why wasn’t she yelling at him? Why wasn’t she telling him that he was throwing his education down the drain and that he would be paying for this week in chores? 

 

Why was it, that she just looked horribly sad? 

 

“M-Mom…?” He tried, tracing her back with his eyes as she sighed and moved to the kitchen, all of the energy draining from her all at once. 

 

_ “I thought I was doing a good job on my own, but maybe I’m just not around enough…”  _ Outloud, however, she only said. “Not right now, Taemin.” 

 

It was quiet for a while as she slumped down in the chair at the kitchen table, head in her hands. She usually made better effort to seem cheerful, but it seemed that Taemin had taken what energy she had left to put up fronts. He bit down the question on his tongue, but it didn’t stop him from wondering what his mother had wanted to be when she grew up. Mostly because he knew that the answer couldn't possibly be “divorced and overworked”

 

He winced and shuffled to her side, anyway, repentant. “I’m sorry, Mom… I shouldn’t have skipped school like that…”

 

She looked up, eyes weary, and patted his head. “Thank you for the apology…” A tense pause for a moment, another quiet sigh that seemed to escape without her even really knowing it. “Just...Just don’t do it again, okay?” 

 

_ “I’m trying…” _

 

Taemin nodded, a heart shaped lump in his throat. “Y-Yeah, okay…”

 

She studied his face for a moment or two before speaking, once more. “You know that you can talk to me, right? About anything?” A small smile, but a smile nonetheless. “It’s just the two of us. We’ve got to have each other’s backs.” 

 

And he almost said it, then. Almost said  _ Mom, I’m scared. I think Kibum wants me dead _ . But then, he remembered that thought,  _ am I really such an awful parent? _ and put a smile on his face, instead. 

 

“Nothing, Mom,” he grinned. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

 

\---

  
  


Taemin woke the next morning, and he was _ tired.  _ Exhausted, even. Really, he was pretty close to throwing in the towel and just asking Kibum to put an end to it, already, if only so that he could stop waking in the morning with the same thought:

 

Is it today?

 

Taemin was ready to slide him some of the forensics articles he had been reading recently his way, if only to hurry along the inevitable. Maybe he needed inspiration? Maybe he needed to rewatch the first season of Hannibal? Ok, but Taemin really didn’t want to be eaten. 

 

Holy shit. 

 

Was Kibum going to  _ eat him _ ? No, that was dumb. Right? Yes. 

 

With a groan, Taemin dragged himself from his bed and headed to the bathroom, absentmindedly scratching at his softened dick from outside his boxer briefs. Deciding that he didn’t have enough time to eat the good and wholesome breakfast that his mother would have wanted him to, he stopped in the kitchen before his shower to grab a bowl of cereal, dragging it back upstairs with him. Milk was a liquid, anyway, so it would perfectly fine in the shower, right?

 

He turned the faucets on full blast, waiting a moment before jumping in. He winced at the initial chill of the water before sighing in content as it rapidly cooled. Thankfully, the ledge in the shower that usually held his mother’s expensive shampoo was large enough to hold his cereal while he hurried to lather up his body with whatever bodywash his mother had left in the shower. Strawberries and cream. He could live with that. 

 

After that was done and his hair was shampooed and currently soaking in conditioner, Taemin retrieved his bowl from the ledge and spooned a big mouthful of generic brand Colossal Berry Crunch into his mouth. The orb-shaped cereal cut at the roof of his mouth, but he refused to give it up, chewing carefully and making sure that his cereal-to-milk ratio was balanced enough to counteract the immediate pain that came with each mouthful. 

 

By the time he was finished with the cereal, his bowl was more shower water than milk, but he drank it down, anyways, dropping his bowl and spoon back on the ledge and leaving a mental reminder to take it back down to the kitchen...at some point. 

 

Satisfied, he cut off the shower and hurried to reach for his towel, dreading the cool tile floors that awaited him. His mother used to have very nice bathmats, but she had refused to replace them after Taemin had ruined them with his habit of stepping out of the shower without bothering to dry himself off at all, bringing great puddles of water with him. 

 

He swiped at the fog that clung to the mirror, inspecting his appearance with a careful eye. Jonghyun would be picking him up for school, today, so he needed to look somewhat put together, rather than the usual Trash Goblin Couture that had become his brand. 

 

His hair was getting too long. He hated to admit that his mother (and really, Jinki’s mom, too) was right, but his hair was nearly long enough to tie into a short tail at the base of his neck and really, it wasn’t a good look. Too close to a mullet to look intentional. He needed a haircut, but when was he going to find time for that in between classes and preventing his literal murder?

 

Ah, and there it was, again. The familiar feeling that he was and utterly useless waste of space. His old friend. He had managed to push all of his fear and anxiety to the side but all it took was for that tiny little reminder for the floodgates to swell and burst open, leaving him a gaping hole of stressful thoughts and misplaced self hatred. 

 

Suddenly, it didn’t really matter what he wore to school. He was going to die, anyways. Why put Jonghyun through that?

 

With a sigh, he hung his towel on the hook behind the door and trudged to his room, pulling on a clean pair of boxer briefs, undershirt, and jeans before shrugging on the ugliest, orangest hoodie that he had in his arsenal. He didn’t much feel like looking good anymore. 

 

His phone buzzed in his pocket just as he was shrugging on his bookbag and he allowed a small smile to curl the corners of his lips. Just on time. 

 

He hurried down the stairs and stopped before he opened the door to smooth his hair down because this was still  _ Jonghyun _ , and when he was satisfied, he stepped out the front door, locking it behind him, and headed to Jonghyun’s car where it was neatly parked in his driveway. 

 

“Hey, Tae!” Jonghyun greeted with a grinned when Taemin was seated beside him. The air freshener today was honeysuckle. It was nice. 

 

Taemin smiled softly at the gentle tone of Jonghyun’s thoughts, perfectly normal thoughts that weren’t obsessed with Taemin’s imminent demise. How lovely. “Morning, Brosef.” 

 

Jonghyun smiled widely, all teeth and impossibly cute. “I like your hoodie. Nice color.” 

 

Though Taemin could tell from Jonghyun’s thoughts that he was being serious, it didn’t stop his eyebrows from skyrocketing to his hairline in disbelief. This hoodie was atrocious. An affront to God. There was nothing good about it. But still-- “Thanks, I really appreciate that.” 

 

And then they were pulling out of the driveway and and slowly clugging along the suburban streets. Taemin fought to keep his gaze concentrated out the side at the cookie-cutter houses they passed, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes were drawn to Jonghyun’s face like the other’s sharp features had their own gravitational pull. He was just so perfect, in every way, and if he was going to go around looking so perfect, then really, Taemin couldn’t be blamed for acknowledging it. 

 

_ You’re going to die, soon _ . Taemin wanted to scream at himself.  _ You can’t have him. You can’t have him. _

 

But oh, how he wanted him. Just for a little bit. That would be enough. 

 

Desperate to distract himself, he reached for a topic of discussion. “So, you and Jinki have been hanging out a lot…?” 

 

Smooth. 

 

_ “Shit, does he know?”  _ Jonghyun wondered immediately. Taemin’s eyes widened at that thought. “A-Ah, yeah! We’re actually sort of planning something, so we’ve been meeting up a bunch.”

 

Taemin’s thoughts immediately returned to that evening, eons ago, when he had spied Jinki looking at flight information. Jinki’s thoughts had been primarily focused on two things as of late: flight routes and Kibum. And really, if Kibum could give Taemin some concrete details on when he was apparently planning to murder Taemin, he could nudge Jinki to hurry his plans along. And if Jonghyun was involved in the plan, too, then that would just make it easier to get it moving. Jonghyun was always much more prone to emotionally invested decisions and Taemin could play to that.

 

Taemin saw an opportunity. “Really? What are you planning?” 

 

Jonghyun shuffled a bit in his seat. “Ah, it’s actually a surprise. We’re going to announce it, really soon.” And then quietly, in his head,  _ “The situation can’t remain as it is. We’ve got to do something…”  _

 

Taemin nodded, satisfied that his hunch was correct. “Kibum sure has been acting strange lately, hasn’t he?” 

 

Jonghyun glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, suspicious. “Yeah...things have been getting really rough with his dad…” and softly,  _ “Kibum can’t handle this much longer on his own…He has so many friends, but thankfully he’s been relying on Jinki a little more, lately…” _

 

Taemin fought to hide his smile. This was perfect. If Jinki could convince Kibum to slip away, that would be one problem solved and Taemin could live to see another day. But he still had few concrete details on when his supposed murder would take place. It could be today, for all he knew. Either way, he would just have to work to convince Jinki that Kibum needed to escape right now. Immediately. 

 

Before long, a comfortable silence had settled over the car. Taemin was still preoccupied with his own thoughts, but it seemed that Jonghyun was still dwelling on the situation with Kibum, so Taemin wasn’t too worried that he was missing something. 

 

When the pulled into the school parking lot, however, rather than immediately leaving the car like Taemin had expected, Jonghyun instead shut the car off and turned to look at Taemin. “It’s a shame, you know…” and in his head,  _ “I really shouldn’t say anything…” _

 

Taemin blinked, rolling through every possible thing that could be a ‘shame,’ but drawing blanks. “‘A shame’?” 

 

Jonghyun casually turned his eyes back out the front windshield, hands buried in his pockets. “About you and Kibum…”

 

And Taemin’s world seemed to freeze all at once. A record scratch moment. Like some cheesy 90’s movie where the hero interrupted the narrative flow to provide some key piece of information that the viewer needed in order to proceed. But this wasn’t some cheesy 90’s movie, and Taemin didn’t have the ability to step outside of his own narrative to breathe for a second, and so he was left floundering like a beached whale. What did Jonghyun know? What had Kibum told him? It was the  _ one thing _ , damn it, that Taemin had asked for.  _ Please don’t let Jonghyun know... _ He pleaded in his head with whoever would listen.  _ Please don’t let Jonghyun know Kibum and I were fucking… _

 

But there was a look in Jonghyun’s eyes, that Taemin could just make out even though the older boy’s gaze was focused outside. Even though Jonghyun’s wasn’t thinking about it, Taemin  _ knew _ he knew.

 

It was the  _ one thing _ . 

 

Jonghyun was the  _ one thing _ he had wanted.  So bad. So bad that he ached all over and felt nearly feverishly sick with the weight of it all. 

 

“W-What about me and Kibum…?” Taemin asked, hesitance coloring his voice. He wanted to say something else. Wanted to say instead,  _ I want you. I’ve always wanted you,  _ but the words refused to free themselves from his throat. 

 

Jonghyun turned his eyes back to Taemin hesitantly, like he didn’t want to be the one to break it to Taemin. His thoughts were full of pity and just a bit of anger, fluttering around the air but never settling on something concrete enough for Taemin to read its precise train. 

 

“I think…” Jonghyun started and then cut himself off, turning his eyes back to the windshield and then back to Taemin. A heavy sigh. A gathering of strength. “I think you broke his heart, Taemin…” And his voice is dripping in disappointment. Like Taemin was a little brother who had done something he knew he wasn’t supposed to do. 

 

_ Ah,  _ he wanted to say though he bit it away, all teeth and muscle.  _ But you see, you’ve just broken mine. _

 

But instead he nodded and dragged himself from the car, staggering away like he was on the verge of collapse. And maybe he was. 

 

Maybe he was. 

 

\----

 

He felt bad about it, but Taemin was pissed. Not just angry. But  _ pissed _ . At  _ Kibum _ . And it was somewhat ridiculous that  _ this  _ was what had finally done it to him. Not the manipulation. Not the murder plot. But because he had singlehandedly ruined any chance that Taemin had had with Jonghyun.  _ Unknowingly _ ! That wasn’t even part of Kibum’s great big plot! And that was the part that made Taemin’s blood boil and his skin feel too tight, because  _ damn it, _ he had only asked for  _ one thing _ . 

 

So, in German, while Kibum was thinking to himself  _ “Some blood patterns show characteristics that make them easy to link to a bloodstain analysis report… _ ” Taemin was glaring at him and thinking  _ how could you, oh how could you _ . 

 

And it was like some terrible, horror-comedy. The murderer, plotting his crime and the victim, mad for all the wrong reasons. And Taemin  _ knew _ he was being ridiculous, and he  _ knew _ that he should have much more self-preservation than the abysmal levels that he was currently displaying, but he was in  _ love _ with Jonghyun. 

 

Kibum didn’t glare back. In fact, Kibum hardly showed any emotion, at all. It was enough that Taemin wanted to leap at him. Rake his nails down Kibum’s face and  _ demand _ some sort of reaction. And at that thought, came disgust at himself, bubbling and acidic. Because through it all, through weeks of having to listen to Kibum carefully construct the perfect murder, Taemin had never wanted to  _ hurt _ him for it. He had just wanted Kibum to stop, wanted him to disappear somewhere where Taemin wouldn’t have to listen to his thoughts anymore. But he hadn’t wanted Kibum to hurt. Hadn’t wanted him to suffer. But he supposed that everybody had a breaking point. And Jonghyun, Jonghyun was his.

 

It hurt to swallow that down, so he swirled that thought around in his mouth and decided that he didn’t like the bitter taste. 

 

But Kibum just  _ stared _ at him. Looked at him like he was something disgusting that Kibum had stepped in. And kept thinking those terrible thoughts. 

 

_ “Depending on the size, shape, and distribution of the stains, an analyst can determine the proximity to the victim…” _

 

How could he just sit there and think such awful things? How could he sit so numbly while Taemin was so obviously falling to pieces in front of him? Was Taemin wrong? Was this all part of his grand scheme to torture him? Was his plan to make Taemin suffer before killing him? 

 

Though they were both sitting in a classroom full of other people also thinking terrible things like  _ how can I get her to sleep with me _ and  _ Jenny said she would buy some adderall off of me for the next test _ , Taemin could only hear Kibum’s near constant stream of thoughts. Like they were in a world of their own. 

 

_ “Crime scene analysts will check the ceiling for bloodstains, too, so I have to remember to be careful. Clean…”  _ With his head turned towards the window, not even looking at him.  _ “Dark clothes make it difficult to read bloodstains, but UV lamps make them visible…Good thing he only really wears dark colors...” _

 

Well, fuck him. Taemin was going to start wearing white, exclusively, from now on. And he was going to leave a really long letter in his back pocket explaining, yes, Kibum, who was supposed to be Taemin’s  _ best friend _ pulled the biggest dick move of the century and murdered him because Taemin wouldn’t dick him down anymore. 

 

And that was just assuming that Taemin even let him that close, in the first place. After all, if Taemin had it his way, Kibum would be on a plane far, far away before he could even get close enough to act out any of his plans. No matter how sweet the revenge of the whole note-in-the-pocket thing would be. 

 

Before he was really aware of it, the bell was ringing, signalling that class was over. He glanced down at his worksheet with panicked eyes only to see it still terribly, offensively, blank. He had been so distracted with targeting a glare so fierce on Kibum that he hoped that the boy would simply burst into flames that Taemin had somehow managed to forget that he was still in  _ class _ . 

 

With a sigh, he scribbled his name at the top, as well as some  _ die, der,  _ and  _ das _ ’s for good measure across the page. That should get him a few pity points, right? 

 

And then, he was shuffling his books together and hurrying from the room. Though he and Kibum were heading to the same place, Taemin didn’t want to have to walk with him. In fact, it was the first time since Kibum’s nefarious murder plot had been discovered that Taemin had not shown express interest in staying so close to Kibum that he gave a baby kangaroo a run for its money. 

 

It was too soon for that, dark feelings still swelling too close to the surface of his skin for him to acquiesce to that. And with a sigh, he acknowledged that he would have to get over his anger, eventually. It wasn’t benefitting him to act viciously towards Kibum, and Taemin didn’t want to encourage him to begin considering murder any sooner than he already was. 

 

But still, he wanted one day. 

 

Just one day to be mad. 

 

So he took it.

 

\---

 

By lunch, Taemin was much calmer. Still seething slightly, just below the surface, but most of the anger had managed to become more self directed by the time he was sitting across from Kibum at their usual table. Jonghyun and Jinki were late, as was quickly becoming the usual, and Minho was chatting up some of the older boys on his soccer team, so it was just Taemin and Kibum. 

 

It wouldn’t have been that bad, really, if Kibum had managed to  _ not _ be a creepy, murdering weirdo for three whole seconds. However, that was outside the realm of Kibum’s capabilities, and so they sat there, in silence, while they both listened to Kibum recount some of the information that he must have gathered from hours of intensive research. 

 

_ “Sixty-four percent of men choose to use a firearm in order to commit suicide…” _ As Kibum was thoughtfully chewing a piece of celery. It was completely obtuse, but Taemin couldn’t help but mark that Kibum hadn’t given him his lunch in a long time.  _ “If I can get him to put the gun in his mouth and pull the trigger, it’ll look like a suicide, easy. But how?”  _

 

Woah, woah, wait. 

 

_ The _ gun. Not just  _ A _ Gun. 

 

As in a gun that Kibum has in his possession, currently? How in the holy hell did Kibum get a  _ gun _ ? They’re highschoolers! Did Mr. Kim own a gun? That wasn’t surprising, exactly, but it  _ did _ push some of Taemin’s thoughts on his apparent murder closer to “startling reality”. 

 

Kibum turned his eyes to Taemin’s, expression still thoughtful.  _ “Regardless, most suicide shots are usually close enough to leave a contact burn and some gunpowder residue. I just need to get close enough and aim correctly, if I can’t get him to do it for me…” _

 

Taemin shivered and fought to turn his eyes away, but he couldn’t look away. Like staring down a train wreck. Except Taemin wasn’t just  _ watching _ the train wreck, he was actively tied to the tracks and Kibum was the villain, watching it all and twirling his mustache. 

 

_ “Most suicide shots are shot upwards, and really I only have one shot. What are the chances of someone shooting themselves more than once? And gunpowder. I’m going to need to leave some on his hands…” _

 

Taemin shifted in his seat, pizza growing cold before him. He ducked his head, chin buried in the wide neck of his atrociously orange hoodie and winced when Kibum remarked that suicide victims, oddly enough, hardly ever shoot through their clothing. 

 

Yeah, okay, this needed to end.

 

“H-Hey...Buddy?” Taemin tried, hoping that his voice would stop shaking if he cleared his throat hard enough. Or, even better, maybe if he just coughed hard enough, his would choke himself and take care of Kibum’s problem, for him. 

 

Kibum raised his eyebrow, singular and cruel. “Yes?’

 

And, that was all Taemin had. 

 

“Uhm…” He blinked and glanced around. “Nice weather we’re having…?”

 

Kibum blinked slowly and then didn’t bother to reward Taemin’s shaky olive branch extension with anything more than a grunt of acknowledgment. His eyes were still cold, though his expression was blank and unmoving. Eventually, Taemin caved under his stare and looked away. 

 

_ “I wish he would stop trying to pretend nothing happened…” _

 

Taemin winced at the thought and turned his attention to picking the greasy pepperonis off of his pizza slice. He wished he  _ could _ pretend that nothing happened. In fact, he wished that he could go back and in time and  _ stop  _ what had happened. But he couldn’t. 

 

But he couldn’t tell Kibum that. Partly because he wasn’t sure how to word it in such a way that Kibum would understand what he was trying to say. But mostly, it was because Taemin didn’t want Kibum to know that he had long since accepted that he was to blame for how things had turned out. He hated to sympathize with his own would-be murderer, but life had not been kind to Kibum. Taemin had not been kind. Even when he had thought he was. 

 

There was a heart-shaped lump in his throat that prevented any further attempt to speak, and Taemin was grateful for it. If only because it stopped him from vomiting out a slew apologies that he knew Kibum would neither welcome nor appreciate. 

 

He wished he could be a better person. That he could be less self involved and worry about his best friend, sitting across the cafeteria table and so clearly suffering under all the bruises that dotted his neck and wrists. But Taemin wasn’t always a good person, especially where Kibum was concerned, and so he didn’t ask the questions that needed to be asked. Questions like  _ are you okay? Is your father still beating you? How do I stop hurting you, too?  _ Instead, Taemin sat there, silently, and worried for himself. 

 

_ “I need to just do it. I already have the gun. I need to just get it over with…” _

 

Though Taemin shuddered at Kibum’s thoughts, he couldn’t help but to agree, if only to put an end to the near-constant strain of fear that held onto him with all its strength. 

 

And when Kibum eventually gave him enough details to piece together when his death would occur, Taemin would fight it. Because though it was selfish, he wanted to live more than he wanted Kibum to be okay. 

 

\-----

 

When Kibum finally ( _ finally _ ) gave him the details that he had been waiting weeks for, Taemin had thought he would be ready. However, the wait of a single word floating towards him proved to be much more startling than he had anticipated. 

 

_ Tonight… _ Kibum’s mind hissed at him from across the lunch table as if it were aware that Taemin was listening.  _ Tonight. _

 

Taemin shivered and ducked his head, unable to withstand the weight of Kibum’s gaze. 

 

_ Tonight… _ The hissing promised him.  _ Tonight _ …

 

Taemin could almost feel the chafing of zipties being pulled taut about his wrists, could almost imagine what it would feel like when Kibum dragged him from his closet and down the stairs. A knife, Kibum had decided. He would do it with a knife. Slit both of the wrists and watch the blood pool around a rapidly cooling body. That was how Kibum wanted it to happen. 

 

A small, quiet part of Taemin’s brain was almost content to let it happen. Almost weighed down with enough guilt to resign himself to a slow death. Anything if that meant that Kibum didn’t have to think such awful things, anymore. But the selfish part of him. The part of him that clawed to the surface and made the surface of his skin itch, wanted to  _ live _ . Wanted to live more than it wanted to see Kibum happy, again. 

 

_ Tonight. _ He told himself, and his thoughts found themselves lining up with Kibum’s in a nightmarish harmony.  _ Tonight… _

 

He would fight it. He had spent nearly all of his waking hours planning just how he was going to get out of this alive. He would talk to Kibum. He’d persuade him to stop. Anything. 

 

Taemin’s eyes, cool and calculating, flickered over to Jinki. Jinki had been planning on helping Kibum escape, anyway. Taemin could tell Kibum, could let him know that if he just held out for a bit longer, that he would be far enough away from Taemin that he would never have to see him ever again. He could convince Jinki to push his plans forward from the place in the back of his head where they had remained only vague imaginings. 

 

He turned his eyes back to Kibum, all pale skin and dark circles, and reminded himself. 

 

_ Tonight. _

 

\---

 

Taemin had allowed himself to proceed with the rest of his day on a delicate balance of forced calm and hope that Jinki would be able to help him resolve things peacefully. Jinki already had the thoughts in his head, had already begun to look up flight information, and had already began discussing his idea with Jonghyun. Taemin would just have to nudge him in the right direction and then suddenly, Taemin wouldn’t have to worry about when Kibum was going to snap and drive a knife through his chest. 

 

Good. This would work. Things would slowly, but surely, return to normal. 

 

Except they didn’t. Not even a little bit. 

 

Because when Taemin made his way over to the minivan were Jinki was supposed to be waiting for him, he was met with the sight of Jonghyun pushed up against the hood of the van and Jinki’s tongue down his throat. 

 

It was strange. Watching Jinki fill a role that Taemin had so desperately coveted for himself. Jonghyun’s thoughts painted them together in hues of fiery red and muted pinks. They were pressed together. Hip to hip. Thigh to thigh. Tongue to tongue. Taemin’s eyes found themselves skating to Jonghyun’s hand and how it fluttered at Jinki’s hip and though he wanted to look away, his shock kept his eyes rooted there. 

 

Normally, he would have grinned, teasing and brilliant, at the clear flirtation that lined Jonghyun’s features, but knowing precisely what the other was thinking froze Taemin where he stood. In Jonghyun’s fantasies, Jinki would throw his head back in pleasure, tittering whimpers rushing past slackened mouth. In Jonghyun’s thoughts, Jinki’s wide palm carded through blush colored hair, tugging only slightly. 

 

A silent moment passed and blood flooded Taemin’s skin, marking it the same dusty rose as Jonghyun’s hair. He shoved his hands forcefully in his pockets and feebly convinced himself that it wasn’t because his sex hung heavy in the tight denim of his jeans because even though betrayal was shooting through his veins, white hot and unrelenting, that was  _ Jonghyun _ and Taemin  _ loved him _ . He was almost thankful that the loud pounding of his heart in his ears drowned out Jonghyun’s thoughts.

 

From the overall tone of their thoughts, they thought that the large pickup truck parked next to them hid them from view. Jinki was keeping track of time so that he could pull away from Jonghyun before Taemin saw either of them. 

 

Except Taemin’s last class had gotten out early and the pickup truck did  _ not _ hide them from view. 

 

“W-What the fuck…?” Taemin murmured, eyes wide with shock. 

 

Though his voice had been quiet over the babble of students making their way to their respective cars, Jinki must have been listening for him and as a result, he jerked back from Jonghyun with enough force that the shorter boy slid down the hood of the van and nearly fell to the ground. 

 

_ “Shit, shit shit…”  _ Jinki scrambled to put some distance between himself and Jonghyun, but his lips were slick with spit and his jeans tented in a such a way that there would be no hiding what had just happened. “T-Taemin…! T-This isn’t what it looks like!” 

 

Jonghyun refused to meet his eyes, gaze focused on his shoelaces. “This is  _ exactly _ what it looks like, Jinks…”

 

And Taemin flinched as if he had been slapped. Taemin had started calling Jinki “Jinks” when he was still a small child and Jinki had been the older brother figure he had never had.  _ Jinks,  _ he would call, tugging on the hem of Jinki’s raincoat.  _ Will you give me a piggyback ride? _ Or,  _ Jinks _ he would sob, face buried in quivering palms.  _ Why doesn’t Dad want me anymore? _ Jinks was Taemin’s. Had always been Taemin’s. But now, the name was fitted to someone else’s mouth and Taemin felt like he had had the rug firmly pulled out from under him. 

 

Jinki’s eyes were impossibly wide and his hands were raised, open palm towards Taemin, like he was confronting a frightened animal. His thoughts were a constant stream of curses while from his lips stumbled half formed apologies, words tripping in their haste to escape. 

 

Jonghyun seemed to gather strength, first, lifting his chin and straightening his back, eyes meeting Taemin with equal parts guilt and quiet defiance. “Jinki and I are together.” He announced, without hesitance or preamble, dropping the statement at Taemin’s feet for him to do with it what he would. 

 

“T-Together?” Taemin couldn’t help but stutter. He knew what Jonghyun meant. He  _ knew _ what Jonghyun meant. But it couldn’t be right. 

 

“Together.” Jonghyun nodded, thoughts confirming that terrible statement. He elbowed Jinki firmly in the side, nudging him forward. 

 

“Taemin…” Jinki murmured quietly, voice gentle. “We were going to tell you...Soon. We’re going to college together.” A pause, heistance. “I’ve already looked at flights. I’ll visit all the time, I swear!”   
  


“Flights…?” Taemin whispered. 

 

And then it came to him. Flights.  _ Flights _ . Jinki hadn’t been planning  _ Kibum’s _ escape, he had been planning  _ his own _ . 

 

( _ Tonight _ Kibum’s mind hissed to Taemin.  _ Tonight. _ )

 

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ That hurt. That  _ really fucking hurt _ . 

Hurt so much that Taemin staggered away a few steps, palm cradled to the place on his chest that ached so horribly. Hurt so much that he couldn’t bring himself to look in Jinki’s stricken eyes, anymore, or Jonghyun’s guilty ones. 

  
Hurt because they  _ knew _ . Hurt because they were acting this way because they  _ knew _ Taemin loved Jonghyun. Had been hiding things from him because they didn’t  _ care _ . Hurt because beneath Jonghyun’s guilt ridden thoughts were quieter ones that were  _ glad _ . 

 

He took one step back, and then another. And that felt good, the distance. So good, that he turned fully around and ran away from them, backpack swinging across his back. 

 

Jinki called for him but he must have been stopped from pursuing him by Jonghyun because before long, their voices had died out and Taemin was alone on the sidewalk that would lead to his house. 

 

For a single, ridiculous second, Taemin wondered if just letting Kibum do what he wanted wouldn’t be so bad, after all, but he quickly smothered those thoughts. 

 

Tonight. It was happening  _ tonight _ . And though his heart was making quite an effort to simply break apart in his chest, Taemin knew that he had to push that away. His one hope of ending things relatively peacefully was officially a moot point and now, he would have to figure out a way of appeasing Kibum on his own. 

 

He briefly considered simply staying at Minho’s house until the night was over but quickly pushed the thought aside. There was no guarantee that Kibum wasn’t so set on it happening tonight that he wouldn’t just track Taemin to Minho’s house and kill him anyway. After all, Taemin’s mother would be working late tonight, and he was pretty certain that that was why Kibum had so firmly decided that now was the time. 

 

He was still running, arms pumping, eyes wide and unseeing. It was only on pure muscle memory, alone, that he even managed to come to a halt when his driveway came into sight. He slowed to a walk, heart thrumming in his chest, and his gaze darted around uncertainly. He ducked behind a telephone pole, watching the miniblinds in his front window for signs of movement. After a few minutes, he decided that expecting Kibum to simply jump from the bushes with a knife was borderline ridiculous, and he needed to just get over the anxiety that was thrumming wildly beneath his skin. 

 

But still, it took quite a bit of strength before Taemin mustered up the courage to edge closer to the front door, unlocking ithesitantly and closing the door quietly after himself when he managed to cross the foyer. He twisted the lock with shaking fingers, and then the deadbolt for good measure, and he leaned heavily against the door, eyes staring into the afternoon darkness of his house with quivering breath. There was no way that Kibum had managed to break into his house, but to Taemin’s fearful mind, there was no lack of creeping shadows in which Kibum could be hiding. 

 

He hurried up the stairs, making sure that his feet feel carefully enough that the old wood didn’t bother to creak under his weight. A few more hesitant steps, and he was in his room, taking in the careful disarray with wary eyes. It was four o’clock. Did that count as ‘tonight,’ or was ‘tonight,’ closer to ‘this evening’? 

 

He sighed, a deep breath that eased some of the weight on his chest. Then, another deep breath. And another. And before he had even realized it, he was hyperventilating, heart pounding in his chest and throat constricting around each painful breath until he he not choice but to sink to the plush carpet of his floor and just  _ breathe _ . 

 

Kibum was going to kill him. 

 

Kibum was going to  _ kill _ him. 

 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t been taking it seriously, but when the thoughts had only existed in a sort of abstract and distant way, they had been easy to write off as impossible. But now, with a concrete time of death creeping on his consciousness, everything was suddenly very, achingly real. 

 

And with Jinki and Jonghyun’s betrayal fresh on his heart, Taemin felt that much more alone. Did he even  _ have _ any friends? Had they only been pretending to enjoy his company this whole time? How long had Jonghyun and Jinki been going behind his back? Had they laughed at Taemin’s stupid little crush in between jerk-off sessions? 

 

( _ How stupid _ , Jonghyun hissed in Taemin’s imagination.  _ How could he possibly think that I would ever feel that way about him? _ )

 

And really, how  _ stupid  _ could Taemin be. The one person he well and truly loved had been sleeping with someone who was like an older brother to him. And the one person who well and truly loved Taemin  _ back _ was going to murder him tonight because Taemin was such a stupid, insignificant, microscopic  _ piece of shit _ . 

 

He felt like dirt. Lower than dirt. Like a ball of shit rolled together into a somewhat human form. And with the weight of his impending death and the sting of hurt pulling at his heart, he had to wonder if he had always been this way. Had he  _ always _ been such a terrible person? Did he  _ deserve _ to die?

 

Maybe. 

 

There was a lump in his throat and it was making his breaths puff out even more painfully. Occasionally, a tiny, pathetic whimper worked its way to the surface. And then, his breaths lowered into forced grunts and he stubbornly fought back what he already knew was happening. And then, he just couldn’t fight it, anymore, and he was crying great big ugly tears. 

 

Taemin was an ugly crier. He had always been an ugly crier. He could feel snot pooling above his lip and knew for certain that his expression was painfully pinched, blotchy red patches dotting his pudgy cheeks. He raised balled fists to his eyes, pressing against them like it would somehow plug his tear ducts, but the pressure only squeezed out more tears until Taemin well and truly gave up on fighting them, letting his head fall back on his closed bedroom door with a heavy thunk. 

 

He was tired. Very tired. And really, he didn’t deserve this strange power that had done nothing but cause him trouble. Superpowers didn’t work the way they did in the movies. Suddenly being able to read minds didn’t make Taemin a better person. It just enabled him to continue being a shitty person in new ways, made him privy to information that he had used to his own advantage. It had allowed him to misunderstand his friends and take advantage of them, and allowed himself to be taken advantage of, in turn. 

 

_ Baby...  _ Kibum had called him  _ baby _ when he was fucking Taemin. When he was buried to the hilt inside of Taemin, Kibum had looked at him and caressed his face like he had hung the stars and had called him  _ baby _ . 

 

Why had that not been enough? Why had Taemin not been satisfied with that? Kibum had been perfect, but Taemin didn’t  _ want _ perfect, he wanted  _ Jonghyun _ .

 

And the thoughts sent another wave of tears cascading down his face. Why was Taemin so  _ selfish _ . He had taken advantage of how good Kibum had made him feel, taken advantage of Kibum’s thoughts because Taemin thought he had known what was best. Jonghyun and Jinki had been hiding their relationship from Taemin because of that same selfishness. Taemin was the one who could read minds, and yet, he was also the one who was left like an open book, all the pages torn out. 

 

The ceiling of his room was an eggshell white, plaster grooved into little patterns that he used to trace with a single finger as a child to help him sleep. If Kibum had it his way, this would be the last night that Taemin would even see this ceiling ever again. He lifted a quivering finger to the air, tracing the swirling patterns carefully and wishing for sleep to take him far away from this tiny, cluttered bedroom. 

 

It was six o’clock. 

 

How had that happened? 

 

Was it ‘tonight,’ now? Or would it be ‘tonight’ later?

 

With bleary eyes, he sunk down so that he was lying flat on his back, finger still tracing the ceiling. If Kibum really wanted to kill Taemin, was really committed to it, a locked door wouldn’t stop him, but maybe it would hold him off for a few minutes so that Taemin could finish tracing his ceiling for the last time. 

 

Would Kibum still call him  _ baby _ when he was ziptying his wrists together and dragging him down the stairs? Would he ask  _ does that hurt, baby, _ when Taemin’s blood was staining the kitchen tile? 

 

How many rounds of bleach would it take for his mother to clean the blood? Would she have the floor redone so that she wouldn’t have to see that same tile everyday, just like she had painted the living room after Taemin’s dad had left them? Would she still be able to see the blood just like Taemin could still see the scuff marks on the walls?

 

His phone was buzzing in his pocket, and with shaking hands, he fished it out and brought it to his face so he could read the incoming text message. 

 

_ Bum: hey, i’m outside your house, can you let me in? _

 

The phone clattered on top of his face as his hand went limp, but Taemin couldn’t feel the sting it must have left behind. 

 

It was six twenty five. Was that ‘tonight’? 

 

He supposed it was. 

 

His heart was beating so loudly in his chest that he nearly didn’t hear the shrill ring of the doorbell. He yelped and shot up into a sitting position, eyes darting around the room frantically. Could he hide in the closet? Could he push his desk in front of the door? Would that even stop Kibum? Probably not. 

 

He swallowed thickly, eyes aching from the tears that still spilled down his face. His cheeks felt swollen and his nose still ran. He must have looked miserable. Half dead, already. Well, he thought to himself, at least that’s half of the job done, already. 

 

Another text. 

 

_ Bum: taemin hurry.  _

 

It was dark outside. Taemin couldn’t see sunlight peeking through the blinds in his window, anymore. The sun must have set not long ago. Really, it was the perfect time for a killing. The only downside, was that now that Kibum was directing Taemin to the front door, he must have ditched the ziptie-dragging-down-the-stairs plan, which left Taemin unbalanced and unsure. 

 

The doorbell rang again, and then again. Impatient. 

 

Well, Taemin thought, he certainly wasn’t going to  _ rush  _ to his death. Impatience or not. In fact, Taemin took as much time as possible picking himself off of his bedroom floor and slowly opening his door. 

 

If he peeked downstairs, he could see Kibum’s head through the tiny, semicircular window at the top of the door, the porchlight illuminating a small square just before the front door. Taemin decided then and there, standing at the top of the stairs to just open the front door and stop putting off the inevitable. After all, if Kibum was already  _ there _ , then certainly if enough time passed by, he would simply find a way into the house? Maybe break a window?

 

Besides, if Taemin got this done with, it would hopefully be over before his mother got home. 

 

A quiet part of his brain also informed him, that if this was over quickly enough, Kibum could manage to get away before his mother returned from work. It was tiny part of his brain, but Taemin didn’t want Kibum to go to jail. He didn’t want his mother to come home, find his body, and see Kibum standing over him. He would always want the best for Kibum, always want him to be happy, even if that meant forcing his phone back into his pocket rather than dialing for the police.

 

_ Baby _ . Kibum had called him  _ baby _ and caressed his face. Had called him  _ baby _ and loved him so gently.

 

Taemin gathered what little strength he had and forced his feet to shuffle forward, moving closer to the steps. He took them one at time, slowly. Resolved as he may have been, fear still thrummed white hot and fierce in his veins. His fingers were quivering were they gripped the banister for strength. He had fully intended to stay behind his locked bedroom door, but almost as if Kibum had commanded it, Taemin was standing at the top of the stairs, like an idiot, and contemplating merrily waltzing down the stairs to his death. 

 

Somewhat hysterically, he tried to recall what it was, exactly, that he had eaten last. A slice of public school pizza. He nearly groaned in disappointment. To think that a slice of pizza that was really closer to cardboard than dough would be his last meal. How fitting. 

 

And then, he was standing in front of the door though he had moved as slowly as possible. 

 

“Taemin!” Kibum’s voice called. “C’mon, dude, open the door!” And standing this close, Taemin could just manage to make out his thoughts.  _ “I don’t have much time...he needs to hurry…”  _

 

He swallowed slowly, throat working around the lump that was still there, but his face was dry of tears and his heartbeat was slow and sticky in his chest. Somehow he was calm. Impossibly calm. 

 

His palm gripped the cool doorknob and paused. This was it. These were his last moments. When the door was open, Kibum would most likely force him back into the house and drag him to kitchen and slice his wrists open. 

 

For a brief moment, he panicked and was halfway to reaching for his phone in his pocket to dial the police before he managed to stop himself, taking three slow, stuttering breaths. 

 

And then, he unlocked the door and yanked it open before he could manage to give into the part of his brain that  _ promised  _ him that if he just called the police, he wouldn’t have to die. The part of his brain that was screaming for him to run up the stairs and drag his heavy desk in front of his bedroom door because there was no way Kibum would be able to shove past it without knocking the door down. 

 

Without having realized it, his eyes had drifted shut as he opened the door. Somehow unwilling to look Kibum in the eye and be met with that same cold, distant stare that he had seen on his face so often. 

 

“Taemin…” Kibum called, voice calm and even, contrary to the desperate way he had been ringing the doorbell. 

 

As if Kibum had commanded it, Taemin felt his eyes slowly open, vision blurry for a moment or two as his eyes adjusted to the dull light the hung above them, flickering every once in a while. His mother had asked him to change the bulb months ago, but Taemin had forgotten to. He wished, now, that he had listened to his mother. He wished that he had always listened to his mother. 

 

He started at Kibum’s feet, eyes taking in every inch of him methodically. He was wearing tennis shoes, slightly muddy as if he had run through backyards to get to Taemin’s house rather than sticking to the dry sidewalks. A smart move, really. They wouldn’t be able to track the footprints very well and he would have stayed out of sight. Beside his shoes was a black duffel bag, well packed if its bulging exterior was anything to go by. Taemin supposed that it made sense that Kibum would have brought his own murder weapon, though he had thought that Kibum had been planning for it to look like a suicide, and really, Taemin’s mother would be able to tell at a single glance if a knife belonged to their kitchen. 

 

Moving upward, he saw tight, black running pants and a black hoodie, hood pulled over Kibum’s head. Nondescript. Exactly what Taemin would imagine a would-be-murderer on the run would wear. 

 

But it was Kibum’s hands, limp by his side, that drew Taemin’s attention like an electric magnet. 

 

They were red. Bloodied. Short nails crusted with blood underneath and random splotches dotting the back of his hand. Like it had sprayed on the skin and Kibum hadn’t had the time to wipe it away. That was certainly odd. Why would Kibum’s hands  _ already _ be bloody if Taemin, his victim, was standing right before him. 

 

His phone buzzed, alerting him that he had a text message, and more out of muscle memory than anything else, Taemin dug it out of his pocket and tore his eyes away from Kibum’s bloody hands to stare at his screen. 

 

_ Mango Choi: dude dad says there are cops crawling all over kibums house. Apparently his dad got drunk and really killed himself this time. Is bum with U????? _

 

Taemin blinked slowly and turned his eyes back to Kibum’s bloody hands. The blood was beginning to dry, turning brown in some spots. 

 

Then, he turned his eyes to Kibum’s face, really looking at it for the first time since he had opened the door. His skin was pale, sweat beading his forehead and dark circles making his eyes stand out in stark contrast to the rest of his face. His lips were thinned and pressed into a scowl, but his eyes were frantic, darting around frequently and unable to settle on anything long enough for Taemin to meet his gaze. His thoughts swirled around him in a jumbled haze that Taemin couldn’t manage to pick apart well enough to discern individual words, but Taemin could sense the overall desperation seeping through them. 

 

Suddenly, Taemin was painfully aware that, yet again, he had completely misunderstood something vastly important. Kibum wasn’t here to kill him. Kibum had  _ never  _ been here to kill him. 

 

( _ Baby _ . Kibum had whispered, fingers caressing Taemin’s face like it was made of glass and could shatter at the slightest hint of pressure.  _ Baby _ .)

 

“Taemin…” Kibum murmured again, voice shaky and thick with emotion. His bloody hands jerked by his side, twitching every now and again. “Do you feel up to being an alibi?”


End file.
